#i did nothing wrong fuck you all (apology post)

[bobzora]

replaying 5 is like *oh yeah kmshda palace is so strong...ann...* *omg yeah mdrme palace is crazy i love ysuke* *cricket noises* *futba palace soooo true...god* *cricket noises* *hehe hes wearing the silly outfit- oh wait theyre really dragging this explanation out arent they* *cricket noises* *cricket noises* *omg thirdsem......god yeah this is peak....* and then you do it all over again

#bobtalk #okmura only good parts airlock.haru didnt get enough time:/ #shdo is so annoying.only good part is when you know what. #the only main good thing abt memntos depths/yaldy is that it doesnt waste your time for too long #(wasted opportunity) #third palace is the worst most miserable part of the game for sure. utterly pointless. such a playthrough killer. nothing good. #do even mkoto fans like that palace. like. there are no emotional stakes. lol. #sorry for my haterisms. also yeah the palaces i do like all have stupid shit but these are just my most :/ #p5 spoilers #trying to stay out of the tags to not bother anyone but like.this is kind of spoilery isnt it.lol. #outside of Dumb Shenanigans and Lame Storytelling my biggest pet peeve is like.the handholdy-ness. #post casino they spend way too much time repeating the same damn flashbacks and repeating themselves overexplaining this shit. #(meanwhile jker who just got back from All That: ...) lol #and during the 3rdsempalace that one segment with the Pick A Door. THEY LITERALLY MAKE YOU SIT DOWN AND DISCUSS IT. GUYS. #THE SOLUTIONS ARE SO FUCKING OBVIOUS. HELP. and theyll let u pick the wrong ones anyway So Whats The Point. #at least akchi bitches abt that palaces bs too.that was definitely helpful.best part of the game.still has bs. #i will say the rat thing is cute......and the vanilla final stuff is like Okay. its just a littleee wasted. bc yaldy is boring.to me. #but then again ive never really cared for boring gods in general.lol. #its like girl u have a hostile takeover of the velvt room how did u make this so boring.lol #goodnight for real this time.i wanted to bitch a little. i apologize. #also sorry if any of those parts r ur faves or something. just remember: were persnafans. were all losing here no matter what.

[traitorsinsalem]

she dealt with asian family drama like no one else did and all the fanbase did was hate her

#succ speaks #i saw her at the bottom of a mianite character tierlist......everyone is entitled to their opinions but im going to kill you for that #martha literally did nothing wrong...was a great character with SOLID positive development and wasn't confusing af...what else do u want #matthew played her fucking weird nd uncomfortably before krys started playing her and that's all. #<- and he even apologized for that explaining that he was just fucking around which is fair like. it's a video game roleplay series. #idk. i think it's weird that everyone is willing to view mianite as its content in-universe until it comes to isles...and martha fsr??? #also like. people HATE martha and LOVE capsize #like...ur willing to ignore the weird flirting for the sake of capsize's character but not martha?????? #also ppl whine about martha being a mary sue or whatever while being andor fans? what is actually wrong with you? #but yeah. martha ended up becoming the epitome of balance in so so so many ways. and on her own terms but not in a defiant way. #i went on about that in my 'mianite s2 was just high scale asian family drama how did white british ppl write it so well by accident' post #so i'm not going to ramble about it again here #but like idk. mybe it's because she's just like me for real but martha hate makes me sooo bitter and also confused #WHATEVERRRRRRRR im going to sleep now snrrrrrk mimimimimimi #mianite #<- for my personal tag i never even use sorry if this gets in the main tag.

[catsharkie]

what if ds9 had tumble

capsisko

the wormhole :) 

i-identify-starships-in-posts follow

klingon bird of prey, cloaked.

capsisko

?

(2373 notes)

skrainfanboy5997notdukat follow

Gul Dukat did nothing wrong.

wormzallday

f

juuuuulian

u

(9208 notes)

miles-edward-obrien

I thought I had work today, but no, the time loop.

(0 notes)

ziyart 

STATUS UPDATE, I WON THE ART COMPETITION! 

#THERE WAS NO ONE ELSE IN THE COMPETITION!

(9 notes)

kiranerys

If another thing breaks on this station i swear to the prophets

kiranerys 

the replicator just sent someone to the infirmary. our doctor is running on negative 60 hours of sleep at least

kiranerys

i just want a raktajino

kiranerys

@miles-edward-obrien get your ass in here

(23 notes)

sponsored 

come to quarks, quarks is fun, come right now, don’t walk, run!

miles-edward-obrien

I thought I had work today, but no, the time loop.

(0 notes)

juuuuulian

no sleep for 55 hours and counting!

juuuuulian

56 hours and counting!

juuuuulian

57 hours!

juuuuulian

where is miles

wormzallday

julian please

(7 notes)

n0gg

ah yes. me. my bestie. and his 50k word fanfic draft.

jakeosaurus

YOU asked ME if you could beta

n0gg

its funnier if i blame you

#lol

(93 notes)

juuuuulian

no sleep for 55 hours and counting!

juuuuulian

56 hours and counting!

juuuuulian

57 hours!

juuuuulian

where is miles

(7 notes)

ziyart

MY FRIENDS TOLD ME I CAN TYPE IN ALL CAPS!

# IM NEVER GOING TO TALK IN LOWERCASE EVER AGAIN!

(3 notes)

miles-edward-obrien

I thought I had work today, but no, the time loop.

(0 notes)

garaksclothiers

So many accusations in my inbox! You people certainly are creative.

odododo

I know you’ve killed before. You’ve barely tried to hide it

garaksclothiers

Oh? You hate me and my whimsy?

odododo 

I’m going to make a callout document on you.

(12 notes)

jakeosaurus

if the voles had subspace i think it would look like this

skittering-002

i love being in conduits undisturbed

pittering-pattering follow

I CAST PLASMA BEAM 10000 DEATHS

skittering-002

AHHHHH

(201 tiny notes)

the-scuttler

scuttling

the scuttler

easy website

(10032 tiny notes)

n0gg

the station is under attack stop vole blogging

jakeosaurus

do you think skittering-002 and pittering-pattering were in love

(38 notes)

deepspacenineofficial

Apologies for the high pitched whining! Our shields are activated, we are currently under attack. There is also an ion storm passing through.

miles-edward-obrien

If I get stuck in a time vortex again I swear to god

miles-edward-obrien

FUCK

(203 notes)

deepspacenineofficial

Apologies for the high pitched whining! Our shields are activated, we are currently under attack. There is also an ion storm passing through.

miles-edward-obrien

If I get stuck in a time vortex again I swear to god

(203 notes)

jakeosaurus

if the voles had subspace i think it would look like this

skittering-002

i love being in conduits undisturbed

pittering-pattering follow

I CAST PLASMA BEAM 10000 DEATHS

skittering-002

AHHHHH

(201 tiny notes)

the-scuttler

scuttling

the scuttler

easy website

(10032 tiny notes)

(38 notes)

n0gg

wormzallday

i really wish women were real

(1348 notes)

kiranerys

guldukat follow

#YES

(1024766 notes)

#ds9 #deep space nine #star trek #im not tagging all these characters

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode III

Calm After the Storm

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, rut cycle, heat cycle, extreme knotting, marking, scenting, territorial/possessive behaviour, breeding kink, p in v, mating/bonding, multiple climaxes, creampie, belly bulge, actual breeding, let me know if I forgot anything?

Word Count: 6.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Happy halloween guys! I know I literally fell off the face of the earth and I will make another post to address that. But I know I haven’t participated for @pandoraslxna ‘s kinktober event (I’m so sorry bby) but if I could only participate for one of the days it would be today for sure. So I definitely wanted to get this out before midnight. It’s not purely a/b/o but honestly entails all the aspects of it. I think we can all definitely tell who’s the alpha and omega here (Ralak is alpha material hands down, ofc). I hope you guys enjoy this one, and I apologize for such a wait <3 Also I feel like I’m a bit rusty, so apologies for any typos, errors, or just plain suckish writing.

ALSO a big happy birthday to my babe @neteyamsoare <3 love you and hope it was a good one!!

Synopsis: Your heat starts to subside, but Ralak’s rut is only getting stronger. What could possibly go wrong?

<- Previous -> Next

——

Only an hour has passed before you feel your not-so-gentle giant stirring behind you, waking you from your sleep. You’d both been on your sides for too long now and everywhere seems to ache. You whine when you feel his hips shift against you, tugging at the immense pressure between your hips. The bulge protruding from your lower abdomen has barely gone down and you feel almost as full as you did when he initially emptied his load inside you.

Silken strands of his hair fall onto your prickled skin as he props himself up on his elbow from behind you, perching his chin on your throbbing shoulder. He inhales deeply – longingly. His hot breath gently blows against your neck just as you feel his arm snake under your leg and yank it back in one rough tug.

“Ralak.” His name falls from your lips through a nearly inaudible croak. “‘m so full.” You barely mumble out, rolling your head to the side. Yet, the flame within you is without a doubt reigniting with a vengeance.

And he can sense it.

Simply by the way you push back into him, making that bulge in your belly protrude a little more. His large hand resting on your stomach can indubitably feel it. And the smile that it puts on his face is almost baleful, bearing his lengthy canines that yearn to sink deep into you once more. “Sorry, tìyawn [love].”

He just can’t help it.

No matter how hard he tried. The desire—no, the need—to fuck into you and claim you as his time and time again is… irrepressible. In this moment, nothing else felt better than your little, used cunt hugging his cock so tightly that it almost hurts. He yearns to fill you over and over. Again and again until your womb is overflowing with his seed. The mere thought has his balls pulling tight to his body, firming up by the second all just to flood your womb again.

“Muntxate [wife].” Ralak growls into your neck, sliding his hand down to your inner thigh. “I will try to be–” He groans slowly, his pointer finger now burrowing itself between your tied pelvises, “–flrr [gentle].”

The final accented word comes out roughly, and if it weren’t for his finger slipping past his knot and into your cunt, you would’ve probably heard it clearly. You yelp out when he traces his finger around his knot, stretching your already taut skin, attempting to work a little space to allow his bulge to slip out.

It's all consuming and you’re simply too overwhelmed with his size that you fail to realise how your body is synced with his and bearing down to push him out. All whilst he’s struggling to fight the snap of hips to avoid hurting you. But the tugging is nothing like you’ve felt before adn you can finally understand why he was so insistent in the first place.

ut there was no getting out of this now, not that you even wanted to.

“It–it’s…” You brace yourself by grabbing onto his forearm, “...t-too big.”

“Ngaytxoa [sorry]” He huffs out his fourth apology, losing himself once again as his hips finally jerk back out of his control.

Pop.

His knot slips out of you with such force that the squelch it makes is as loud as your whimper. It’s so wet and slippery that his cock follows behind his knot, sliding out of you effortlessly. He’s more than half-hard yet so heavy and hung it rests close to your knee. Then you feel it. His cum dribbling down your thigh, still warm and sticky as if he just filled you up seconds ago.

It’s such a conflicting feeling — a mixture of relief and pent up frustration. Your heat is still in full bloom, despite it being so quenched until you’re almost nauseated. It’s as if you were two pieces perfectly linked together, allowing nature to run its course with no second thought. He grunts when he feels the crisp night air against his groin, his cock now springing up to its full length in just a few seconds.

He, too, feels some sort of feverish way now. Itching to be back inside your warmth, enveloped by your gummy, slimy walls. He opts to pepper wet kisses along your neck, and then up to your jaw, lingering there as he tries to distract himself from the ache to shove it back inside you.

Until it becomes too much.

“Tanhì.” He moans into your ear, heavy lidded eyes struggling to stay open as his tongue trails the skin on the back of your neck. “Need you.” It’s his way of begging for permission. Permission to slam his cock back inside you and hammer into you until the annoying itch deep in his core goes away again. You were the only one to make it go away. To stop the hurt. “Please.” He whines out a plea of desperation, now gritting his teeth from the way his stomach is tensing. “Now.”

But that last plea wasn’t much of a question, no. It was more of a demand. A way of saying, ‘give it to me, or I’ll take you on my own terms’.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath, sliding your free hand down your side to hook it under your leg. You pull it back and reposition your hips to give him access to your cunt. “P-Put it in, ‘Lak.”

Ralak’s hips begin to stutter — the leaking, mushroomy tip of his cock now repeatedly prodding between your puffed up folds. His breath turns raggedy as he tries to guide himself back inside you handsfree. Your slick is overflowing, making it even more difficult for him to align himself with your entrance. The frustration brewing within him bubbles over when his cockhead glides past your swollen clit instead of sinking in your cunt. So he pulls back in one swift move and —

Thrust.

Your body jolts from how quickly he slams every inch of his cock inside you, forcing you split-open. Ralak huffs a shaky sigh of relief, his breathing growing a little steadier now that he’s deep inside his mate. Meanwhile, your mouth hangs agape yet no sound falls from your lips. Your eyes well up with tears and your ears lay flat against your skull. Your body is in complete submission to the beast dominating it and there’s nothing else you can do but give in to the pleasure.

“Your scent.” He whispers open-mouthed, tips of his canines grazing the nape of your neck. “It is driving me crazy.” You release the breath that you didn’t even realise you were holding. You didn’t even know what to say. Not like you could really say much right now anyways. You’re too lost in the fog of your own heat. For once, Ralak is doing most of the talking. “It makes me…” He snaps his hips back, only leaving half of his length inside you. “...lose myself completely.”

A deep roll of his hips.

A lewd moan dripping off your lips. 

“How do you do that?” He huffs, pressing his teeth against your neck. You don’t answer yet again. You just can’t find the words. Not right now. Not when he’s so deep inside you. “Hm?” A deep growl vibrates up his throat, his teeth just barely piercing the first layer of your silken skin.

“I—” You’re cut off by your own squeal when you feel the sting of his bite. Your breath catches in your throat and he immediately unlatches, lapping at the nicked skin to soothe it. “Sorry.” He whispers breathlessly, planting a quick kiss on each of your marks. “Sorry. Sorry.” A few more apologies flow from his mouth, as if he were drunk off of too much fermented fruit. Somewhat lucid but still so spaced. “I cannot —ngh— help myself.”

Thrust.

“‘M sorry.”

He knows he went a little too deep just now. But you feel so fucking good around his cock.

Chomp.

Another mark. Right on the bend of your shoulder, next to your first.

“Ngaytxoa [I’m sorry]”

A small cry from your quivering lips.

“S-Stop. No more apologies. I am yours to do what you p-please with.” You finally get out in one, weary breath.

Ralak’s languid, deep thrusts are laced with desperation. And with each stroke they become harsher and harsher. Faster and faster. Now he’s got your full permission he lets go once more, falling into the thick fog of his rut.

Within seconds his cock is pumping in and out of you, his half-deflated knot continuously prodding and poking at your entrance. The tip of his cock drags against your walls, putting an immense pressure right on your sweet spot. Yet still, sounds barely fall from your flushed lips. You’re too out of it. Too focused on the raw sensations rippling through you all at once. His overwhelming pheromones. His marking. His relentless pounding.

Rather, hot tears well over your eyes and stream down your face.

He can’t stop slamming himself inside you. He doesn’t want it to stop. It’s absolute rapture and he’s unapologetically drowning in it.

“Tanhì. Tanhì.” He groans needily. “y/n.”

He only says your name when he’s serious about something.

And hearing it drip from his tongue onto the nape of your neck has your hairs standing high and your clit throbbing.

“Eywa. Yes, ‘lak? T-Tell me what you need.” You blubber out, tightening your grip on his forearm.

“Haa — spread yourself.” He demands, prompting you to tuck your leg back as far as you can. His pace quickens, hips striking you with a sinful vengeance. But no matter how hard he fucks you, or how deep he buries himself inside you — its just not enough. He needs to be closer. To be deeper. To really be inside you. To knot you.

“More.” He grunts, slowing his thrusts into rocking, grinding himself inside your slippery, tight cunt.

You go to tug at your leg and meet nothing but resistance. “I-I’m trying.” You can feel it now. Perhaps it’s the bond or maybe it’s the way his knot is working you open but he’s growing more and more frustrated by the thrust.

“Mmmh. Wider.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” You’re quick to answer, feeling nothing but pressure from the way he’s trying to shove more of himself inside you.

“Agh.” He growls in frustration, pulling out of you and grabbing you by the ankle to flip you onto your back.

Ralak situates himself between your legs without hesitation and pushes them so far back your knees graze against the tips of your ears. You can barely breathe in this position and are having a hard time seeing anything else but his raging cock at your entrance. You can feel the burn in your thighs from how far back he’s shoving your knees but that sting is masked by the pleasure of him plunging himself back into your pussy.

The moan that rips from your lips is obscene and like no other. The crown of his cock is drilling itself directly into your sweet spot, causing it to swell with unadulterated pleasure. And each time he pulls out just to sink it back inside you he winds you in the process – making you sputter out absolute nonsense. Even he knows you're close, despite being in the thick of his rut.

But frankly, he doesn't care.

All he’s concerned about is satisfying his own urges.

“Not enough.” He grits through his teeth as his eyes shift to an even deeper shade of mauve. “‘ts not enough.” He pants, voice laced with something of worry. Panic that this feeling won’t go away. It makes you panic too, wondering if you’re doing enough for him. If he’s going to take even more from you. If you can manage it.

“You’re okay. Do what you need.” You try to reassure him, grasping your feet and holding them back–opening yourself up even more. But fuck, that only made things worst for you.

And by worst, you mean better. It feels like you’ll burst any second now, especially with how much pressure is on your bladder. “Fu-ck me. God, fuck–ahaa-fuck me.”

His brows bunch together as he peers down at you, beads of sweat rolling off his face to drip onto your chest. His jaw is so tense it looks as if it may fracture. He’s grunting with every push and huffing with every pull.

“Right there! Fuck. I’m close. I’m so fucking close. I-I need you to cum i-inside me. Oh—please ‘lak. Please!” Your cries are choked and muffled, breaths short and raggedy. The heat pooling in your core is unbearable. It needs out. Now.

Ralak swallows. Hard. Through his own haze he can see that you’re in need too. He shuffles closer to you, tucking his feet under him to assume a squatting position. Now he’s all but on top of you, folding you into a merciless mating press. This one shift in position has you coming undone on his cock, coating it in your thick slick as you sob from the white hot pleasure. The force of your climax has you pushing him out and only has him drilling himself further inside you. If it’s not for the way your pussy walls tighten around him surely his knot would have popped inside you by now.

He’s still fucking into you, right through your orgasm and towards his.

“Say what you need.” He panics through a tightened jaw, grinding himself inside you – pushing his knot against the resistance.

You know what he’s actually asking from you. To say something. Anything to tip him over the edge. To rid him of this maddening itch.

“Breed me.” You whisper, locking eyes with him. You watch as his pupils blow into thin rings and then constrict into nothing but dots. You try to swallow what spit you could, attempting to clear your throat. “Breed me. Please.”

“Then take it.” He lets loose a sinister growl, putting all his weight into his final push. For the first time, you feel his knot pop inside you, veiny and as thick as can be. You let out a high-pitched whimper, and feel your teeth begin to chatter. That doesn’t make him ease up, though. He continues to grind himself inside you until you feel the familiar, warm sensation of his sticky seed spraying inside you – filling your womb to the brim. His cock throbs wildly, in perfect synchrony with his own heartbeat, and soon yours too as the bond equilibrates your souls once more.

Strangely, you thought you’d be sore and overstimulated by now, but your body has never felt better. You’re full and content and more than satiated. Ralak heaves a sigh — one of pure relief. It’s glued to his face. All panic washes away and he’s feeling more at peace the longer he remains inside you. He’s rigid, firmly holding his position on top of you — ensuring he empties every single drop inside you. Yet, his heavy lidded eyes begin to close.

“I can’t breathe.” You mumble, snapping him out of his tranquil trance. His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth pulls into a little smirk. He exhales a breathy chuckle and carefully manoeuvres you both into a more comfortable position. He settles himself on his back and supports your body whilst positioning you on top of him.

“Better?” Ralak husks, drawing circles into your back with the tip of his finger.

You take a deep breath, filling your lungs to full capacity and then slowly release it. “Much.”

“Nga yawne lu oer [I love you]” His accented words slur together as he dozes off.

“Nga yawne lu oer, Ralak [I love you].”

——

Ralak woke repeatedly throughout the night for his fill. If it wasn’t him, it was you. Waking up in a clammy state, shaking and nuzzling into his chest from your heat. You honestly thought that the more time passed — the more rounds you went — the more he would calm down.

But, you thought wrong.

He’d start by leaving tender kisses wherever he could, whispering he’d do his best to be as gentle as he can be. Then, he’d slip a finger inside you, stretching you out in attempts to pull his knot out without hurting you. But it would always sting, even just a little bit. After that he’d beg. Pleading with you to let him back in, and apologize right after plunging inside you regardless of your answer—which was always yes.

At this point your own foggy haze would take over. Perhaps it was your body’s way of coping with the overstimulation, but you pined for every single second of it. Sometimes it would last for a few minutes. Where he’d be quick to fold you in two and growl in the shell of your ear, ‘you’re mine, haah — fuck, take me’. 

Sometimes it was closer to an hour. Where you’d both be so tired you’d take breaks, lazily taking turns fucking each other, telling him to ‘put it back in’ whenever he’d slip out. But one thing remained the same every time. You’d sob when you’d cum and then beg him to breed you. And he would, without a doubt, breed you.

Mercilessly.

And with each breeding, he’d lose himself a little deeper. Knotting you over and over. Marking you repeatedly until your body’s littered with bites. Until you were so fucked out you’d lost the feeling in your legs. Until your throat was so dry you could barely speak. Until you needed a break.

——

“Wait.” You crawl towards the bedside table with wobbly knees. “Just need some water, Lak.”

Ralak pounces on you, knocking you onto your stomach and pressing himself against you. You extend an arm out, fingers splayed out and shaking from you trying to reach the cup of water Ka’ani left there more than a day ago. Ralak grabs your hips and hoists you up onto your knees and elbows, and mounts you from behind.

“Water. Water, Lak.” You beg with a hoarse cry, only for him to line the crown of his cock up with your sopping cunt. He growls next to your ear as he stretches over you and reaches for the cup of water, filling his cheeks and putting it back down within a couple seconds. With a quick grip of your jaw, he turns your head and meets his lips with yours.

Before you can process what’s going on you’re gulping down water as fast as you can. And when he pulls away, you’re yet again met with the hazy eyes of his rut. That’s when it dawns on you that whilst your heat is coming to an end, his rut is only getting stronger.

Rather than looking away, he locks his gaze onto you, just so he can watch your face screw as he slams his cock inside of you in one, hard thrust. It works a sudden, breathy moan from your mouth, eyebrows pinching together from the stretch. He holds his position, basking in the warmth and tightness of your cunt as his breath goes shaky.

“Wait.” You mumble weakly, shoving a hand behind you to push against his lower stomach. “Please.”

For the first time, you were telling him to stop.

His jawbone flutters as his eyes search yours. Restraint plasters to his face, and the only audible thing is his heavy breathing. He nods. Just once. A firm and intentional nod. He swallows the residual water left in his mouth and tenderly pulls out of you. You hear the thud of his footsteps quiet down as he nears the marui door, and then the splash of the water when he dives into the rough sea.

It’s pouring outside.

Storming, actually. Thundering and lightning. Yet he feels this is the only way he’d be able to resist the urge to storm back in and fuck you. But the instinct to protect his mate, even if it’s from himself, is more than enough to give him the willpower to walk away.

You take this moment to just breathe, turning your head to face the plush bed beneath you as you gather your thoughts. Did he just show that much restraint? Enough to walk away from a female na’vi during her heat cycle… all whilst in the height of his own rut cycle?

“Lekye’ung [insane]” You mutter, using your trembling hand to grab and bring the cup to your lips. They, too, are sore and chapped. Having gone so many hours without any food or water, you knock it back, shaking the cup to get out every drop. Finished already? You think to yourself, looking inside the cup with hazed vision, confirming it’s indeed empty.

After setting it back down onto the table, you slump back into the bedhead, relaxing your body. You’re sore. Actually, sore is an understatement. Every single muscle and fiber in your body burns—and that isn’t entirely due to your heat either now that it’s finally subsiding. Perhaps you should be taking this time to have a look at your… condition, but you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

So you give in, sinking further and further into the bed as you doze off.

—

A few hours go by and Ralak returns with a net of fish thrown over his shoulder and a bucket of fresh water perched on his hip. He carefully sets down the bucket and rests the net next to the fire pit. He’s cautious not to wake you, nor come too close to you. Ralak ignites the fire and fans the flame. As quietly as possible, he prepares and cooks the fish, setting them aside to wrap in the leaves of a spartan tree.

Since coming to Awa’atltu, one of your biggest adjustments—despite the obvious—has been your change in diet. Fish weren’t uncommon back home, but they certainly weren’t the main source of food. You prefer the other foods here, your favourite being what you call ‘inland boar’, which is an animal that resembles what your father calls a ‘pig’ from his star.

But not even that, (boar) could smell better than this (fish).

The aroma alone rouses you from your sleep.

Your eyes open to a dark room and a glowing fire pit. The fire is out but the wood remains hot, shifting among different shades of orange and red. Ralak sits beside it, with his back leaning against the support beam of the pod. His arms are crossed over his chest and his knees are slightly bent. It’s hard to see more than just his silhouette with the lack of moonlight.

“That smells good.” You rasp. Ralak’s eyes fly open to reveal a familiar shade of deep blue. Like the sea. They glow and flicker before you, examining you now that you’re sitting up out of bed.

Crack.

A bolt of lightning strikes in the distance, illuminating the room. For a moment, you were able to see every single bike mark, scratch and bruise you’ve given him. It also reveals that he’s shaking. Trembling from being wet and cold, or possibly from the strain he was putting himself through from just being in the same room as you.

Ralak moves quickly, shuffling to his feet and going right for the leaf that holds a few sloppily rolled fish. He brings it to you, setting it slowly on your lap, being overly cautious not to touch you. Grabbing your cup on the table, he dunks it in the bucket and sets it beside you.

“Eat.” He whispers, backing away to sit next to the pit. You watch as he slides down the beam and into a sitting position, and then glance down at your food. Saliva pools in your mouth from the aroma wafting up your nose.

You’re hungry.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, hastily stuffing an entire roll into your mouth.

You moan as you chew, nodding your head from how good it tastes. It’s hard to swallow, given that you bit off more than you could chew—literally—but when it finally goesdown you feel your stomach grumble for more. Ralak watches you intently. A wince screwing his face with every swallow he witnesses. And when you finish, you chug down your water and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Another crack of lightning strikes, and then a low, lengthy rumble of thunder follows.

“That was… one of the best you’ve made, lak.” You say with a wobbly smile, slowly getting on your feet to wash your hands. The bucket is nearby your mate, who is still fixed in position. Although he remains unmoving, his eyes follow your every move. You shake your hands to dry them and shuffle over to Ralak and sit next to him.

“so… how do you feel?” You ask quietly, raising your hand to check if he’s feverish. He turns his head before your hand can make contact with his skin and his gaze locks onto the charred wood in the fire pit. 

“Fine.” Ralak mutters.

Eyebrows pinching in confusion, you tilt your head to try and look him in the eye. Your brows relax when you come to the realisation that he’s already taken care of himself. And only Eywa knows how many times.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that. I would have—”

“Ma’ muntxate [my wife]”He croaks, swiftly turning his head to look directly into your eyes. “Oeru txoa livu [please forgive me].”

“Txoa? [forgive?] What for, ma’ muntxatan? [husband]”

“I have… neglected you.” He’s struggling to speak. You can hear it in the strain of his voice.

Regardless, none of his words are really making any sense to you right now. How has he been neglectful? Despite the circumstances, it’s obvious he’s been trying his hardest to be good to you. Somehow, even conjuring up the strength to pull out of you and walk away.

“Ralak. You have not. Please, I—”

“Look at yourself.” He snaps, taking a quick glance at your body before dropping his head in his hands.

Crack.

Conveniently, another strike of lightning and boom of thunder, revealing exactly what he’s talking about. For a few seconds, you’re met with the sight of your battered body—scabbed and bruised. You lift your head, staring at his shameful demeanour. But the more you stare, the more you see your own reflection.

“And have you looked at yourself?” Your words bounce as you shuffle closer to him. “I bet you can’t even feel all that damage I’ve done to you.” You coo, using your thumb to gently graze past an easy six-inch scratch mark on his bicep. “I haven’t been so gentle with you either.”

Ralak shakes his head, allowing it to sink further into his hands. “You were starved.” He mumbles into the palms of his hands.

You sigh, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin in the dip between them. Your eyes wander over to the fire pit, catching sight of the outline of a few fish rolls.

Has he really punished himself by not eating?

“Have you eaten?” You ask, resting a gentle hand on his back.

“No need.”

“You should, you know. Don’t want you starving on me, lak.” You say lightheartedly, allowing your hand to slide up his spine and to the base of his skull.

He lets loose a quiet groan, fighting the twitch of his ears. Your fingers smooth over the base of his kuru, playing with the braid encasing that covers it. “If you do that—”

“Do what?” You whisper coyly, quickly running your hand down the length of his kuru.

His spine immediately straightens, his head lifting from his hands. The tips of your fingers gently make their way to his tendrils, carefully teasing them as they try to wrap around your digits. He sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes, allowing a shiver to run through him. It feels like your fingers were inside his skull, tickling his brain in the best way possible. 

Reaching for your kuru with your free hand, you bring it up and over your shoulder. You lean into Ralak, your lips only inches away from his. You pull away your fingers to grip and pull his queue forth. The loss of contact has him sitting up straight, opening his eyes to look at you.

“I will not let you suffer alone.” You whisper, lessening the distance between the two of you, tilting your head to the side ever so slightly. He stills himself, even limiting his own breath so as not to make any sudden moves. “Okay?”

You wait for just a moment. For him to say something. To move away. But he remains stock-still, waiting for you to initiate this. You smile, your top teeth briefly rubbing against this lower lip, and lock your lips with his. He exhales through his nose, coming to life from your kiss and returning it full force. You take this as a good sign. A sign that you’ve broken through that wall once again, and bring your kurus together — making tsaheylu [the bond].

Both your eyes fly open, blown pupils staring into one another as your spirits unify. You both pull back, shoulders and chests heaving from your quick, unsteady breaths. You feel all that he feels – the frustration, the panic, the tension. It’s all fading, now finally nearing the end. He feels your subsiding heat, your soreness, your overpowering urge to care for him.

Before another second could pass, your lips crash into each other again—tongues intertwining as they explore one another’s mouth. Using his hand to support your upper back, he slowly lowers you onto the woven floor, parting your legs with his free hand. He situates himself between them, pressing his crotch firmly against yours. He’s warm, just like the toasty fire pit next to you.

I will try to be gentle. Ralak thinks to you, just like he’s been promising to be night after night.

I know you will. You smile, moving your kisses down his jawline as he slides his hands between your sticky pelvises.

——

It hasn’t even been two full weeks since the synchronous heat that had you and your mate locked away in your marui pod for a little over two days. Your back and thighs–and honestly everywhere else– still ache but outside of that, you feel like a brand new person. You weren’t able to confidently say that Ralak feels the same way, however.

Of course, he was adamant on limiting intimacy until you were ‘healed and recovered’. But, he had a bounce in his step. As if he were physically lighter. As if the weight of six years of pent up sexual frustration and self neglect melted off his back when you satiated the ‘insatiable’.

The constant aftercare was almost sickening. Even after most of your marks had faded he remained adamant on treating them with your own omaticayan herbs from back home. He praised them at every use, thanking your people for making such exceptional ’umtsa [medicine].

But as you entered the second week, after tons of reassurance, things dissipated and went back to normal. Ralak went back to his usual routine—fishing, hunting, responding to a few calls to Tonowari and your father. Ralak, without a doubt, made a vow to you and himself not to initiate anything until you were more than healed. But nonetheless clung to you in the nights.

He even, in fact, added a new step into your usual nighttime regimen. As usual, it began with the snuggles and tucking you under his arm just right, providing you with enough warmth to endure the cool night air. Then, he would release the perfect amount of pheromones to get you drowsy enough for bed.

But recently, he’s spent the past seven nights delaying the nightly routine until he’s had his fill of your scent. He’d lay himself down on your chest, nuzzling his face into your bosom and just breathe. You allowed it, thinking it was his own newfound way to wind down for bed.

Yet, the real reason was much different.

——

Right on the two week mark, Tsireya had roped you in with helping her with some of her Tsakrem duties. You were always happy to help her though, as it meant getting away from the marui pod for a little even if it meant being poked and prodded at.

And it certainly didn’t take long for that to happen.

Tsireya lets out a frustrated sigh and plops the medicinal pouch she’s weaving in her lap.  “I can no longer ignore it, y/n. You smell different.”

You lift your head, tearing your focus from your task of weaving and look at her with a puzzled expression on your face. You bring the end of your tail to your nose and sniff, but smell… nothing. “Like what?” Her brows lower and her eyes glisten with concern. She purses her lips and unsheathes the lengthy pin from its casing and grabs your hand. “Here we go.” You mutter to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as you anticipate the sting.

Prick.

“Sss—ah! You need to be careful with how deep you go with that, you know. You could really—” The tsahik in training puts the wooden stick to her tongue and stares at you wide eyed, mouth agape. It’s as if she wants to speak but the words are lodged in her throat. “What? What is it?”

“You—perhaps I am wrong.” She stutters, quickly sheathing the tool back into its casing. “You should see my mother, y/n.”

“What? Why? Just tell me.” The words come out in a haste, and your voice is laced with panic. Do you have some sort of disease of the sea? Is there a cure? 

“You — you are with child.” Her lips tremble as she says the words in an uncertain tone of voice.

“What?” You stare at her dumbfounded, a little caught off guard by her choice of words.

“Pregnant. You’re pregnant. But I am likely mistaken. I am only in training. Which is why I said you should see my moth—”

“Oh. No. You’re… you’re probably right, Tsireya.” You swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks, avoiding eye contact.

“H-How? I mean. I know how. But how? Surely Ralak knows not to do such a thing during your heat. He can control himself. R-Right?”

“Right. If I were the only one… in heat.” You say the last few words under your breath, fixing your shawl before picking back up your task.

“What do you mean?” Tsireya leans in with a tilted head, looking a little closer at your covered shoulder. “Did you help him with his rut?” Tsireya asks bluntly. “He’s been unmated for six years, y/n. Did you reall—”

“I am his mate. Of course I did.” You nearly snap, baffled by the tone she’s having with you.

“H-How did that even work?” Tsireya shakes her head, slowly raising her hand towards you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You finally lift your head to shoot her a puzzled, yet offended stare. “It worked like it would for any other Na’vi.”

“Y/n…” Tsireya quickly grabs your shawl, pulling it off your shoulder to reveal a large, deep and scabbed up bite mark. It looks almost infected because of the strange omaticayan herbal concoction smeared over it. “You should have just let him ease you into it. Look at you, you’re all bruised and—”

“Tsireya.” You interject, “thank you for the concern, but—” you aggressively pull up your shawl, “I feel just fine. Besides, being in heat was the best way to ‘ease me into it’…He was as gentle as he could be.” You mutter, twiddling with the twine as you think back to the way he tried to handle you with care.

“By the looks of it, he was anything but gentle with you.” Tsireya seethes, angry that the man she grew up looking at like a brother would do something like this to you.

You wince at her words. They’re like a knife to the heart.

A long, awkward silence fills the space between you and Tsireya. She reflects on everything she’s said, realising that perhaps she was a little more harsh than needed. She softens her gaze, “I’m sorry. I should not have said that. I just hate seeing you hurt.”

“I get it. I know you’re just looking out for me. It’s alright, ‘reya.”

You exchange lighthearted smiles.

“You are definitely pregnant then. After six years, he must have really filled you—”

“Tsireya!” You laugh, giving her shoulder a light shove.

Tsireya’s grin morphs into a more serious expression. “See mother to make sure. Okay?”

Your smile also fades into something softer as you nod your head in agreement. “Okay.”

#lunaskinktober2023 #ralak #ralak smut #avatar smut #awow smut #metkayina #metkayina smut #metkayina oc #oc smut #avatar oc smut #awow oc smut #sully reader #sully reader x oc #oc x sully reader #oc x sully reader smut #na'vi smut #na'vi x reader #na'vi x sully reader #na'vi avatar #smut #metkayina x omaticaya #metkayina x omaticaya smut #metkayina x fem reader #ralak x y/n #ralak x reader #ralak x you #heat cycles #heat cycle #rut cycle #rut cycles

[stellarwing]

This post contains spoilers for Disco Elysium!

Ever since I learned what the good cop/bad cop score actually represents I have become obsessed with checking it constantly as I play through the game to figure out what makes Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi tick. There have been many things here and there that surprised me but I would like to share my absolute favorite thing I have learned about this man.

First, lest I give you all the wrong idea, I want to make it clear that Kim does very much enjoy watching Harry do good detective work and cracking open a case. But everyone knows that already. It's much less fun and interesting than this:

Kim loves it when Harry fails in a way that gives Kim a chance to swoop in and comfort him.

I have two examples of this coming into play:

1. Billie's Husband

When you talk to Billie to break the news about her husband's death there's an Empathy check to see how well you do it. If you pass the check and do everything absolutely perfectly, Kim will tell you that you did a good job and talk about what happens next. You neither gain nor lose points at any point in this interaction.

If you fail the Empathy check Harry completely botches the death notification. You neither gain nor lose points for this. Once you step outside Kim wants to talk to you about how it went. If you say there's nothing to talk about, you lose 1 point. If you admit you fucked up and apologize Kim reassures you that it wasn't that bad and you gain 1 point.

Once again, there's no way to gain points if you do everything correctly. What this means is that the version of the scene that makes Kim happiest is the one where Harry screws up the death notification but is apologetic enough about it that Kim can feel good about cheering him up.

2. The Moralist Quest

During the climax of the Moralist quest when you contact Coalition Warship Archer you have the opportunity to earn a total of 3 points. If you tell Archer about the 2mm hole in the world but then refuse to go with them, regardless of the reason you choose to stay you gain 1 point.

Once the conversation is over and you are disconnected from Archer there is a passive Volition check. If you fail the check then you climb down off the statue and that's it, that's the end of the scene. You leave with your total of 1 point. But if you pass the check you are given the option to stay sitting on the statue a little while longer.

If you choose to stay, Kim asks you if you're okay and tries to reassure you that you made the correct decision. Simply for going through this scene and giving him the opportunity to talk to you about it you gain 2 points.

There are a couple dialogue choices you can make but you get the 2 points regardless of what you pick. There are very few actions in the game that earn you double points. This is the same amount you get for finding the bullet in the hanged man's head. And you get it just for giving Kim the opportunity to comfort you after your failed Moralist mission.

Kim wants Harry to need him so bad.

#disco elysium #disco elysium spoilers #kim kitsuragi #harry du bois #kimharry #harrykim #disco elysium meta

[nereidprinc3ss]

okay i know this is kind of a specific request but can you do something with professor Spence and uni reader where they get into a spat and argue bc she did something stupid and he gets mad and she’s like “noooo pls don’t be mad i hate when you’re mad at me I’m sorry🥺” bc she literally cannot function knowing she let him down (me with everybody) but he’s like super stubborn and goes all closed up and quiet so that he doesn’t like blow up on her until she finally says like “pls talk to me” and he’s all pissed and like “hell na bitch u crazy!🗣️‼️” but then later he’s like “it’s ok i love u but neva do that shit again ho” then they make up and it’s good again 🎀 ok i explained that so poorly (and comedically if i may) but i hope u get it and pls make it SO DRAMATIC bc I live for drama! like she steals test answers or something or does something that could like get her kicked out of school OR him lose his job 🤔 sigh … idk I’m leaving now. Also i LOOPOOOCE ORRKGOOVI love your fics. Luv em

hey girl (gender neutral) this made me laugh bc genuinely sometimes i write spencer so ooc that is what he sounds like. and i'm not sorry! anyway this is potentially a vyvanse fueled nightmare but i wrote it and i'm posting it MY BLOG MY RULES BITCHESSSS!!!! but genuinely read the content warning LMAO this one got a lil kick to it

warnings/tags: ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, fem!reader, spencer and r get into a for real argument like they're mean to each other, spencer is a lil toxic but its resolved, emotionally neglects reader just for a teeensy second but then he's really nice and sweet again, discussion of his past addic+ion, gets fluffy because i'm not EVIL, gets suggestive at the end bc i am secretly evil.......

a/n: i don't know whats happening. this confuses me just as much as it confuses you. its 3 am in the morning. im gonna post nice happy things soon. Gootbye

“I cannot believe you right now. I don’t even—I don’t even know what to say.” 

“Spencer, you don’t have to say anything. It has nothing to do with you, and I’m not looking for your approval.” 

He looks up from where he’d been rubbing his temples, like you’re a headache, eyebrows raised and lips parted in indignant disbelief. 

“Oh! You’re not looking for my approval? Well thank god for that, because if you were one of my students I would recommend expulsion to the board.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? I just said I don’t care about your opinion on this, much less your hypothetical opinion from some alternate universe where you have any authority over my education whatsoever.” 

“You distributed an answer key to half of your class! Objectively this is the kind of thing that gets people expelled. I don’t understand how someone so smart could do something so fucking stupid.” 

The words bite more than you were prepared for—but what hurts even more is how much he seems to mean them. In arguments past you’d both said things you didn’t mean, and then would immediately melt into I’m so sorry’s and the fight would resolve itself. Spencer’s clenched jaw and inability to make eye contact with you do not lend themselves to tender apologies. They cannot be attributed to miscommunication. 

You take a step closer to where he’s bracing himself against the countertop, arms crossed defensively in front of your chest. 

“Spencer, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was such a big deal. People cheat in college all the time.” 

Still no reply. His head shakes so minutely you wonder if you’re imagining it. Panic wells in your chest. 

“Please talk to me. I really hate when you ice me out. I’m sorry, okay? Just... please say something.”��

Finally, his eyes slide to you. They lack the fiery anger of moments ago but there’s not much softness there either. His normally warm gaze now feels too abrasive, too cold and sharp on your bare skin. You're exposed, much too soft for that grating look, and it feels like he can see everything that’s wrong with you. 

“Believe me when I tell you this. I am doing us both a favor by not speaking to you right now.” 

And then he’s leaving the kitchen—nothing but a breeze against your cheek and the sound of a door slamming to prove he was ever there. 

The apartment is silent. You stand in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of what to do next. Spencer very, very rarely gets angry at you to the point of neglect, and you know he’s doing his best with what was modelled for him as a child and his tendency to feel things so deeply it’s nearly disabling; but that doesn’t make it hurt much less. It doesn’t make you feel less abandoned or alone.  

You’re sad, and you’re still pissed, and maybe you’re in just a bit of shock as you robotically move back to your nest of blankets on the couch and resume your schoolwork. What else is there to do? Unless Spencer is right—unless you really are about to get expelled after getting the answer key for an upcoming test from a friend, who then gave it to another friend, and so on. But is that really your fault?  

It’s a struggle to stay focused as your mind keeps drifting back to Spencer in the other room, those cruel words and that cold steely look in his eye that isn’t supposed to ever be aimed at you. It’s not a secret that side of him exists, but it doesn’t belong in this apartment. It’s not something he needs to use against you. He’s supposed to be on your side. But instead, he’d said you should be expelled and essentially called you stupid. And now you’re doing homework for a class at a school you may not even be a student of come Monday. 

---------------------------------------------------

The sound of the office door opening forty-five minutes later spikes your blood pressure and simultaneously makes your heart flutter, because no matter how mad at him you might be, Spencer is still Spencer.  

He comes to stand behind the couch quietly, but you don’t acknowledge him. Maybe your typing gets a bit more aggressive, but aside from that you flat out reject his presence. 

“Can we talk?” 

You let him sweat for a minute as you finish your paragraph. 

“I don’t know, Spencer. Can we? Or are you not done with your temper tantrum?” 

“That is... well deserved,” he sighs, rounding the couch and tapping the bottom of your foot, signaling that he wants you to move your legs. You despise how automatically you comply, pulling your knees to your chest to avoid touching him as he sits next to you. There’s a long moment of silence, in which you resume typing. Spencer scoffs, leaning in slightly to peer at your screen. “Are you doing homework right now? I’m a complete asshole to you and you just... do your homework?"

“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?” you almost-yell, slamming your laptop shut and blinking away potential tears. “The only person I wanted to talk to called me stupid and fucking left!” 

The tears realize their potential once you admit the blunt truth. 

Spencer carefully moves your laptop and pulls you into his arms—and you just let him. There’s not much fight left in you. There wasn’t a lot to begin with. 

“I am so sorry, angel. You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have yelled, I shouldn’t have said what I said, I shouldn’t have walked away. I overreacted.” 

“Yeah, you really did,” you cry, allowing him to run his hand over your hair. “Why did you do that? Why were you so fucking mean?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he responds, betraying his own anxieties, and a new, unwelcome sense of trepidation slithers through your veins. 

“I was wondering that, too. Even as I was saying it, I knew—I knew it wasn’t what I wanted to be saying. And then I was in the other room and I wanted to be out here, and I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t. But I think I was just scared. Which—I know, doesn’t really make sense, but... I think about when Ethan dropped out of the academy, and ended up doing heroin in New Orleans for three years, and I think about when I almost left the BAU because I was so convinced I’d never get clean that I didn’t even want to anymore, and—and the idea of you losing your education and your direction like that terrified me, probably unreasonably, and I took it out on you. And I’m sorry.” 

“But I’m not like you or Ethan. You don’t have to worry about that. Even if I... even I do get in some sort of disciplinary trouble. That’s a road you don’t have to worry about me going down, ever.” 

He fixes some unseen wrinkle on your shirt.  

“Yeah, but, remember... I used to not be like me or Ethan either. Do you think twelve-year-old Spencer would have ever even considered that of the infinite realities and universes which exist, he was living in one where someday he’d be shooting up in the bathroom at work?” 

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head and burying your face in Spencer’s shoulder. The sound is more of a plea for him to be less descriptive than an answer to his rhetorical question. It’s still much easier for him to talk about that part of his life than it is for you to have to actually imagine it. You didn’t know him then, but you’ve seen pictures, and you know Spencer now, and it’s... it’s just too much. Too sad. 

“Okay,” he agrees soothingly, still playing with your hair. “I digress. My point is that literally anything is possible, and while it’s not necessarily likely, I more than anyone know that anxiety even over the most improbable of things is never completely unfounded.”  

You sniffle in response, too emotionally and physically exhausted to contribute much to the conversation by this point. Thankfully, Spencer can talk for two. An idiosyncrasy which you love and comes in handy every once in a while. He can play his own devil’s advocate; in this case, you. 

“But that doesn’t mean I get to take it out on you. Ever. I truly, truly, sincerely apologize for that. I never want to hurt you.” 

You let the apology sink into your skin like a salve, soothing every abrasion those earlier words had left in their violent wake. 

After a few minutes, you find the energy to ask a question that might best remain unanswered. 

“Are you still mad at me?” 

He’s quiet for a beat, seemingly contemplative as his fingers trace abstract patterns in a language all his own on your arm. 

“I’m not thrilled. But you were right earlier. It’s not my place to be mad at you for something like that.” 

“Mm... it’s a little bit your place. You’re an actual professor.” 

He chuckles. 

“At an entirely different university.” 

“Thank god,” you laugh. “You and me at the same school would be such an HR clusterfuck.”

While it’s almost a serious matter, the smile in his voice is evident. 

“Yeah... I, uh... try not to think about it.” 

“Okay, but seriously. In your professional opinion. Am I fucked? Like, do I need to prepare an appeal and character witnesses or whatever?” 

Spencer sighs. 

“It was incredibly reckless and irresponsible. You should be ready for disciplinary pushback from the schoolboard if you get caught. That being said... because over sixty of you got a hold of the answer key, I doubt anyone is getting expelled, and even if they did, it would likely only be the TA and the student he gave the key to. It’s my tentative, professional opinion that you’ll probably be fine.” 

You relax slightly, allowing a tension you didn’t realize was there to shed like an old skin. 

“I’m not gonna cheat again,” you promise on an exhale. It’s simply too much risk for too little reward.

Spencer’s response is quiet, and comes much faster than you’d expected. 

“Oh, I know you aren’t. Because if you do, you’re going to have to worry about disciplinary action from me. And I’m not nearly as nice as the dean of your school, darling girl.” 

But something about the way he says it—a thinly veiled threat/promise contrasted by a sweet kiss to your forehead—doesn’t exactly make academic honesty look all that exciting.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

[ode2rin]

it's all me, just don't go

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

genre. post-argument, hurt/comfort this time (^o^) | fluff too actually (?)

warnings. swearing, and probably a lil ooc rin .. well he's a bit of a loser here (i like loser men) this is also not proofread basically wrote it on a whim T_T i also listened to "afterglow" by taylor swift while writing hehe so it's a bit inspired to that

note. it's the part 2 of this | i'm supposed to be figuring this whole platform out but instead made a part 2 of the rin fic bec he got me in chokehold istg

before you could make up your mind, you felt the door knob twisting, startling you. you froze, heart pounding against your chest. as the door swung open, it revealed a distraught rin hastily trying to wear his coat.

your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, you were both suspended in time.

itoshi rin was not known for being a man of many words, but for you, he rehearsed every possible apology he could think of as he’ll search for you in every street around. he would’ve apologized a hundred times over if it meant you would return home to him. if you’re not ready to come home with him, he’ll leave you alone. he’ll leave the apartment, if it means you’ll stay where he knows you’re safe. he’ll tell you he’ll be good for you. fuck, he’ll be the best for you. he would have changed his ways, toned down his ego, anything to prove his love to you. he’ll tell you anything, just please, for the love of whatever divine forces watching over him, please come home.

he prepared a lot to say, a lot to make up for. he never prepared for a staring contest with you right now. rin’s hands ached to hold you. he wants – needs to fucking hold you so close, feel your warmth and know that you were still his. but every thought and intention he had practiced vanished in the face of your presence, leaving him at a loss for words.

rin saw the hurt in your eyes, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt in his chest. he had hurt you, and seeing the pain written so plainly on your face made him ache inside.

but the hurt in you was no longer remnants of the argument you had, it was because of your lover standing in front of you right now.

as rin’s eyes met yours, you noticed that his eyes were slightly red-rimmed and there was a streak of dried tears in his cheeks.  at the realization that rin had been crying, you felt your heart lay down in pieces. you knew how rin’s mind tends to jump into the brinks of overthinking. he must’ve thought you’re never coming back, hence him leaving the apartment and going after you.

the sight of him was far from what the world thought about itoshi rin. this was no egoist. 

no, this was a man, vulnerable and afraid, his heart laid bare for you to see. 

and in that moment, you knew, no longer a shred of doubt clouding your mind, that you definitely seen past beyond his walls.

you wasted no time breaking the suffocating silence that enveloped you both, your voice low and small as you uttered a timid “hi.” you couldn't bear to look into rin's eyes, instead opting to cast your gaze downward as you tried to form coherent sentences. “i'm sorry for leaving,” you managed to say, your words strained with regret. “i just needed some fresh air, and i thought maybe you wanted some time alone. i'm sorry–”

before you could continue, rin's towering frame engulfed you in a tight embrace. you felt his arms wrap around you protectively, and you couldn't help but lean into him. "you have nothing to apologize for, it was on me," rin murmured, his voice soft and laced with guilt. he wondered why the hell were you even apologizing when you had done nothing wrong but love him, despite being a huge asshole.

you were about to reply, but rin beat you to it, his words tumbling out in a jumbled mess. "i'm so fucking sorry, baby. i didn't mean any of the shit i told you. i'm sorry i hurt you. i lashed out at you for things you never did, and i took it out on you because i was scared over something so fucking lukewarm." you could hear the sniffling between his words, but you didn't mention it, instead burying your face further into his chest as he held you tighter.

rin's grip on you intensified, as if he was afraid he'd lose you if he let go. he took your silence as a cue to cradle your face in his palms and press your foreheads together, his warm breath fanning across your face.

“i’m sorry. i’ll be good to you, y/n. just please, don’t leave..” me. rin couldn't bring himself to say it, the mere thought of losing you driving him to the brink of madness.

he closed his eyes, unwilling to see your face and see a trace of rejection or any thought of you leaving him. for a moment, it felt like rin couldn't even breathe. the silence between you was again suffocating, and he knew he needed to hear something, anything. "please, y/n. say something," he implored, desperation evident in his tone.

“open your eyes, rinnie” at the sound of his nickname rolling off your lips, he hesitantly opened his eyes to look at you. 

glad he did, because you’re smiling. 

it took one smile. one fucking smile from you, and itoshi rin felt he can breathe again. 

“will you let me let you go?” 

“fuck no.”

you let out a small chuckle at the speed of his answer, all with his familiar snarky voice. you placed your hands in his cheeks and you can see the relief wash over rin's face at the gesture. 

he looks at you as if you're his lifeline, and in this moment, you are.

“you better not. because i’m not going anywhere, rin.” you say, your voice filled with conviction.

“i'm never letting you go,” he whispers, his eyes still locked onto yours.

you both stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the warmth of your embrace. for the first time in a while, everything feels right.

tomorrow, you know there will be more apologies and a lot of talking. tomorrow, both of you will try harder to be better for each other. and tomorrow, hand in hand, you and rin will face whatever lies ahead.

but tonight, both of you will let your fragile hearts hold on to each other and your frantic minds to be at peace in each other’s arms. tonight, itoshi rin will spend every second convincing himself that you’re his to love and here to stay. tonight, he will love you better.

#☁️ my ode to you #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x y/n #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock x reader fluff #itoshi rin x reader fluff #pls take it easy on me i'm new here and i don't know shit #i'll cry

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

My Sweet Girl (Matthew Tkachuk Imagine)

This is by far-- I repeat, by far-- the longest reader insert I've ever written. It's my submission for @wyattjohnston 's Winter Fic Exchange, a gift for @matthewtkachuk ! Excellent URL, by the way.

The creative process here went as follows: Shelbs shows me her On Repeat Spotify playlist -> I see The Band Camino on it and remember that I love that band -> I listen to nothing but them for two weeks -> I hear the song Know It All and am struck with inspiration -> I write this and inflict it on everyone else.

I jumped around a bit while writing, so please let me know if there's anything I screwed up! This is also the type of fic that has had 20+ tabs of Wikipedia pages, ESPN articles, and stats pages open on my computer for two months, but there was still information I couldn't find, so please be gentle with any inconsistencies.

Anyway, I truly hope that you enjoy this one! I apologize for being a day late posting, my job sucks.

Rating: M

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk/fem!Reader

Words: 26, 028

Warnings: a lot of angst

Contains: best friend's brother, friends to ??? to strangers to lovers, situationship, idiots in love, everyone knows but them, Matthew being kind of a dick, guest appearances by the Weinberg-Hughes family and Jane Gaudreau

Summary: As Brady's best friend, it was your duty to love and support him. You're pretty sure falling in love with his brother does not count as "support", but here you are.

-----

You weren’t expecting this to be as hard as it is.

Luckily, you’d been given a little warning beforehand, but apparently a week wasn’t enough to prepare yourself. Was it kind of fucked up that the news had to come from Brady, because Matthew hadn’t bothered to tell you himself? Yeah, kind of. Sure, Brady and you have been best friends for years, but it’s not like you’re not close with Matthew, too.

You hadn’t realized what was going on at first, convincing yourself not to be upset when Matthew’s texts slowed and his calls stopped outright. It had been the beginning of the playoffs, you reasoned, of course he was going to be too busy to talk to you as much. Despite the fact that communication between the two of you had never waned because of the season before. It was his first year on a new team, you’d told yourself, a team with a great shot at the Cup, at that. You could deal with missing him a little more than usual if that’s what he needed.

When you’d called him to congratulate him on passing the first round, he’d thanked you and wrapped the call up as quickly as he could. Seeing the 3:24:41 call duration on your phone afterward had felt wrong. It was one of the shortest calls the two of you had ever had.

You’d brushed it off, chalked it up to him being tired or busy. Then they’d won the second round, and the process repeated itself. A quick phone call, a few scant minutes. It had sounded like other people were there that time, so you’d convinced yourself that he would call you back when he was alone. He never did.

You got to watch Game 4 of the third series, got to watch them sweep Carolina to win the Eastern Conference. Your friend Terri had laughed and clapped as you cheered, jumping up and down like a child. She was a Carolina fan herself, but was good enough of a loser to hug and congratulate you despite it. She’d offered to leave so that you could talk to Matthew, but you’d waved it off. You knew he’d be celebrating with the boys that night, so there was no real reason to try calling. You’d shot him a congratulations text and spent the night smiling so much your cheeks hurt.

When you’d tried to call Matthew the next day, his voice had been hushed when he answered. You’d given him your congratulations, bubbling over about how well they’d played. It’s not the first time you’d had a phone call exactly like that, him letting you gush about his team’s play and basking in the attention. This time, he interrupted you before you even got a chance to really get going. His voice was still quiet, almost a whisper as he said he had to go. The wind was immediately taken out of your sails and you’d barely had time to say goodbye before he hung up.

At that point, you’d given up convincing yourself that everything was okay. Something was very clearly wrong, and you’d spent the next nine days trying to figure out what it was. You’d reached out to Brady, and he’d told you that he hadn’t noticed anything weird from Matthew at all. Knowing that, you’d tried to downplay what was going on between the two of you, lest Brady go bother Matthew about it. You don’t do well with embarrassment, so you’d preferred that whatever was going on stayed away from any third parties.

The finals started, ending rather anticlimactically ten days later in a 4-1 loss for the Panthers. Knowing Matthew, he was going to go straight back to his hotel room and beat himself up. For the last three, almost four, years, you’d called Matthew after every big win or loss, and this was his biggest loss to date. Yet your finger hesitated at his contact name, hovered over the picture of him with bedhead and a lazy smile. With how things had been going, you knew he probably wouldn’t want to talk to you, even if you hadn’t figured out why yet. But part of you hoped that he would, that everything to that point had been stress, and there, at his lowest, he would talk to you again, and everything would go back to normal.

That, of course, is not what happened.

He hadn’t answered at all. And when you’d tried a second time an hour later, it rang once before going to voicemail. That meant that he’d declined your call, but you didn’t know what that meant.

Two more days passed without you hearing anything from him, so you’d called Brady. All of this had been concerning, but that had been too much. Miraculously, you’d managed to stay calm when you spoke with Brady, sounding impressively level-headed when you relayed what happened and asked him if he’d heard from Matthew. Brady had seemed shocked at the situation, immediately calling Matthew after he’d hung up with you.

Thirty minutes later, when you’d received a text from Brady, your heart had sunk to the pit of your stomach, and it’s stayed there ever since.

Because what the text had informed you of is that Matthew hadn’t lost or broken his phone, hadn’t been sick or depressed or, god, lost in the fucking desert or some shit. It told you that he’d been with his girlfriend, and hadn’t wanted her to see him call or text another girl. Because, apparently, Matthew has a girlfriend now. And just hadn’t deigned to tell you.

When Brady had told you that she would be spending the offseason in St. Louis with Matthew, you’d tried to hide your shock. You’d cleared your throat and told Brady how great that was, even as you wanted to throw up. They’d gotten into town a few days ago, and you’d done your best to keep your distance. But Brady asked you to come to dinner at his parents’ house tonight, citing the limited time you have to see him before he goes back to Ottawa, and you couldn’t refuse.

So now here you are, curled up in a chair in the Tkachuks’ den, across from said girlfriend. Her name is Tessa, she’s 26, and she does remote work for a marketing firm. That explains how she’s able to pick up and go to St. Louis for three months, at least. She’s already recounted the story of how they’d met, a romcom story of spilling his drink on her dress at a party and getting to know each other from there. She talks about the instant connection, the way they clicked so quickly that she knew they were meant for each other. That part of the story was when you’d excused yourself to get a glass of water, just so you could stick your head in the fridge and take a few deep breaths.

Matthew and Tessa are on one of the couches, the older, comfier one. Matthew is propped up against one of the armrests, Tessa curled into his side, his arm around her shoulders. You’ve spent the night pretending not to notice the way Matthew keeps glancing at you.

Brady and Emma are posted up on the other couch, one on either side, Emma’s feet in Brady’s lap as she lounges. Emma is great, and does a great job at keeping the conversation going, despite how little you and the boys are participating. Tessa either doesn’t notice your silence or doesn’t mind, chatting happily about some film she and Emma have both recently seen. You’re pretending not to notice the looks Brady’s giving you, either.

You should really be trying harder. You know Brady wasn’t expecting you to curl up under a blanket and mope when he invited you, and he really is right about time being limited. You should be engaging, enjoying the time you get with the boys while you have it. You would, if you could open your mouth without feeling like you’re going to scream.

Eventually, Chantal calls you all to dinner. It’s easier once you’re all gathered around the table, somehow, and you’re able to talk a little. Chantal has always put you at ease, has always made you feel like just another of her children. If you had it your way, Taryn would be here too. She has a way of lovingly bullying you that always makes you feel better. Unfortunately, she’s visiting some college friends out of state. But you’re doing okay, you think, at acting normal.

Then you lock eyes with Keith, and any sense of ease you’ve gained flies out the window. You wouldn’t be inclined to say that Keith is the most observant person in the world, so the way he’s looking at you– like he knows something is very, very wrong– makes it clear that you’re doing an absolutely dogshit job at hiding your feelings. You look away from him quickly, swallowing hard and forcing yourself to talk even more. 

Maybe if you can just act normal, if you can push down the emotions and act like everything is okay, it will be. There’s nothing else you can really do about the situation anyway. Matthew has made it clear that he’s not interested in talking about it, so you’ll have to suck it up and deal with it on your own.

Dinner goes by a little quicker once you’re actually actively involved in the conversation. Typically, you help Chantal with the dishes after meals, but when you reach for the sponge at the sink, she shoos you away. She sends the girls back to the den, insisting that it’s the boys’ turn to help.

You curl back up in your chair, mind wandering as you operate on autopilot. You’re saying things, contributing to the conversation with Emma and Tessa, but you have no idea what you’re actually saying. Mercifully, they either don’t notice or don’t care.

This entire situation is fucked. What’s really getting to you, though, is how you’d been introduced. You’d walked in, giving out hugs to everyone except Matthew and Tessa. She’d approached you, shaking your hand enthusiastically.

“Matthew said you’re Brady’s best friend, right?” she’d asked. It was simple, innocuous, and true. Brady and you have been best friends for years, and that would be an adequate title in any other scenario. But it felt like a punch to the gut, knowing that after everything, Matthew had told her that you were just his little brother’s best friend. You’d glanced at him as she said it, and the intentionally cool, unaffected expression Matthew had in place still couldn’t hide the guilt in his eyes.

In that moment, you knew that he hadn’t told her anything about you, about whatever the two of you have been to each other for the past few years, and that he never intends to. There was a second where he’d made a decision, a second that you weren’t present for, that had cut off everything you’ve been to him and relegated you back to Brady’s Best Friend.

You want to pull Tessa aside, spill out everything. You want her to know that you’re Matthew’s friend too, that you’ve been more than that. More than that, you want Matthew to do it. You want him to tell her, to acknowledge whatever the hell you’ve been doing for all this time. You want him to admit that you’re something, anything to him.

Instead, you keep it all to yourself. The knowledge of everything between you and Matthew will live and die where it is now, in the minds of the two of you, and nowhere else.

June, 2018

You’re wiping down the counters when the man enters. You force a bright smile at him, still annoyed from the previous customer but doing your best not to show it. He returns the smile, approaching the register. You move to settle across from him, greeting him politely. The shop has a lot of regulars, but you don’t recognize this guy.

“I’ll be honest,” he says, giving a single nervous laugh, “I’m not really a coffee guy. Do you have any recommendations?” It’s not an uncommon question, and there aren’t any other customers right now, so you don’t mind.

“Do you like the taste of coffee?” you ask. He shakes his head. That eliminates about half of the menu, so it’s progress.

“How much caffeine are you going for?” you ask next.

“As much as possible,” he replies. The dark circles under his eyes could have hinted you to that conclusion. He has a laptop and notebook in one hand, down by his side. It’s normal for people to bring work along with them, and he’s definitely young, so you guess it’s probably school work.

“You could always do a triple shot latte with a flavor,” you suggest, your own go-to drink, “The caramel is the strongest. I can put in an extra pump if you want.” Technically, you should charge extra for that, but the kid looks kind of pathetic, and you feel bad. He can have a pity pump this once.

“That sounds good,” he agrees. You do the math in your head and punch in the price manually on the vintage register. The whole cafe is supposed to have a vintage vibe, a real hipster magnet. Math was always your weakest subject, but having to calculate totals in your head has made you a lot better with it.

Once he pays on the very not-vintage card reader, you direct him to the far side of the bar. You start on his drink, pulling shots with practiced ease. You’ve been working  here since high school, so you’ve gotten pretty good at making coffee. He doesn’t try to talk to you while you work, which is nice. There’s something oddly calming about his presence, though, and it’s helping your annoyance fade.

You hand off his drink, and he retreats to a booth in the back corner after thanking you. You go back to wiping things down, bobbing your head along with the music playing quietly over the speakers. It’s later in the evening, so you only get a few customers over the next hour. It’s one thing you like about working the night shift. Not many customers, and most of the people getting coffee around this time are tired enough to not give you much trouble, and are usually extremely grateful for the caffeine.

It’s quiet for long enough that you pull your stool up to the counter, pulling your textbook and notes out from under the counter. You start working on the homework for your summer semester, singing quietly to yourself as you read.

“You have a nice voice,” the guy from earlier says, suddenly standing in front of you. You jump, hand flying to your chest as if you’re a damsel in a period piece. You’d forgotten he was here.

“Thank you,” you say, once the surprise fades. You laugh a little, shaking your head. He laughs too, apologizing for startling you.

“Could I have another?” he asks, holding up his now-empty cup.

“Of course,” you reply, “Same cup okay?” You do your best to be environmentally friendly, so you don’t want to use another cup if you don’t have to. He says that’s okay, so you take the cup and start pulling another shot.

“Y/N,” he says absently as he leans on the counter, “That’s a pretty name.” You thank him again, dumping the first shot into the cup. It’s odd, because people are usually flirting when they say something like that, but his tone isn’t suggestive at all.

“What’s your name?” you ask, feeling like you should say something. You start pulling the second shot.

“Brady,” he says, extending a hand toward you. You look between his hand and your own, feeling rude but needing both hands to pull the shot.

“Oh, um,” you stutter, “Sorry, I’m–” He seems to realize what’s going on and retracts his hand, using it to rub at the base of his skull.

“My bad,” he says, shaking his head at himself, “I’m tired, sorry.” You smile at him, much more genuine than the first time.

“What’s got you so tired anyway, Brady?” you ask, dumping the second shot and starting on the third. His face twists at what you’d thought was an innocuous question. He’s clearly debating something in his head, so you stay silent.

“I’ve got something big coming up in a couple weeks,” he explains, tapping his fingers against the counter, “I’m just trying to be prepared.” You nod, not minding how vague he’s being. You don’t actually need to know every detail of a random customer’s life. There’s a moment of quiet as you dump in the third shot and pour some milk into a metal container.

“And I might be a little nervous,” he says, looking at his hands instead of you. You smile again, beginning to steam the milk.

“Just a little,” you repeat, slightly teasing in a way you usually aren’t with customers.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, looking up at you, “Just a little.” You smile at each other for a second, both knowing he’s seriously downplaying his feelings. You wonder what it is that has him so anxious, sure that it must be something serious. He doesn’t seem to be the neurotic type.

“What are you working on?” he asks as you pour the milk, gesturing toward your books spread out next to the register. You shrug.

“Organic chemistry,” you reply, pumping in the flavoring, “The worst class ever.” He cringes at the mention of it, which you feel in your bones.

“I’ve heard it’s awful,” he says.

“It is,” you confirm. You snap the lid back onto the cup, sliding it over the counter to him. He cradles it between his hands, but doesn’t move to leave. He’s looking up at you from where he’s hunched over, and you can’t help but stare back.

“Do you want to come sit with me?” he asks, “We could be miserable together.” The smile that overtakes your face mirrors itself on his own.

August, 2018

When Brady walks in, right at his usual time, you give him a smile and lean over the counter to hug him. You’ve become fast friends, sitting together a few nights a week, probably talking more than studying. His Big Thing is long past, and he still hasn’t told you what it was, but you don’t really mind. You get to know about his family and his girlfriend and his upcoming move to Ottawa, of all places, but you don’t need to know everything if he doesn’t want to share.

You make two of the usual latte, one for each of you. You grab your books from the shelf, meeting him at the corner booth. You get through some small talk as you both set up, going back and forth with an ease that you were surprised to find has been there since the beginning.

“Matthew’s going to come hang out tonight,” he says as he logs into his computer. He’s spoken about his brother before, so you’re somewhat intrigued.

“Any particular reason?” you ask. To your knowledge, Matthew has never been to the shop, so you’re not sure if something special is going on to spur him into coming.

“He thinks it sounds cool,” Brady shrugs, flipping his notebook open. Maybe you’d know what he’s always working on if you could read his tiny chicken scratch. As it is, you don’t mind letting him have his secrets.

You get four pages into your chapter before another customer enters, laying your pen in the divot between the pages while you go make them their drink. Luckily, they don’t stick around. It’s not awful when other people are around, but you always feel like someone is going to complain about you sitting in the dining room and studying while you should be working. But if there’s no work to be done, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. Unfortunately, not everyone agrees. So you prefer if it’s just you and Brady.

Another four pages drag by, reading interspersed with breaks to talk. Honestly, the breaks are also a way to keep yourself sane as you read unnecessarily complicated science.

When the next customer enters, you spring up from your chair, shooting them a smile as you make your way behind the counter. You give your standard greeting, asking what you can get them.

“What do you recommend?” the man asks. You were kind of hoping he’d have something in mind so that this interaction could go quickly, because he may be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and it’s making you flustered.

“Do you like the taste of coffee?” you ask. He nods, looking you up and down with a critical eye. It feels personal, feels like he’s searching for something, and you’re not sure if you like it.

“How much caffeine are you looking for?” you ask next. You do your best to maintain eye contact, ignoring the way you have to look up to do so.

“How much you got?” he asks in return. The crooked smile he gives you makes your stomach flip. You grasp for a drink to suggest, all knowledge having fled your mind in order to focus on the curl of his hair over his forehead, the glint of his bright eyes.

“A Lazy Eye would probably be the most,” you say, clearing your throat, “But if you don’t want to have a heart attack, you could do a regular Red Eye.” He tilts his head, smile turning smug, as if he’s noticed your distraction. Something about it snaps you out of your daze, slightly indignant. You’ve seen plenty of hot guys in your day, and you’re not about to look like a fool in front of him just because he’s pretty.

“Red Eye, Black Eye, Dripped Eye, Lazy Eye,” you list off with as much confidence as you can muster, “Each with one more shot than the last. Pick your poison.” Your attitude change only makes him smile wider. Your hand is poised over the buttons of the register, ready to ring up whatever he decides.

“Let’s go with a Black Eye,” he says, bearing a surprisingly sharp canine, “I’ve had a few of those in my time.” That doesn’t surprise you, with his smug face and oozing self-confidence. Something about it feels so disingenuous that it makes your teeth itch. It’s clearly an act, but you can’t exactly call him on it.

You give him his total, he pays, you get to work. You empty the last dregs of coffee in the pot into the sink and set the machine to brew a new batch. No matter how annoying a customer seems, you’re not about to serve them shitty coffee.

“Y/N,” he says, leaning on the counter, “That’s a pretty name.” It’s exactly what Brady had said when you’d met him, which makes you eye the man a little suspiciously. Whereas Brady had clearly not been flirting when he’d said it, this man’s tone is ambiguous enough that you’re not entirely sure what his intentions are.

“Thank you,” you say, dumping the first shot of espresso into the cup. Normally, you would ask for his name in return, but you’re not sure if you want to encourage him talking to you.

“How long have you worked here?” he asks anyway.

“Almost three years,” you reply. You’re not sure you want to tell him anything about your life, but you’re trying to be polite.

“Experienced,” he says, smiling like he’s a lion closing in on its prey, “I like that.” It’s cheesy and kind of sleazy, and you can’t help but scoff in disbelief. He’s watching you like a hawk, studying your reactions to everything he says and does. You dump the second shot, wishing the coffee would brew faster so this interaction could be over.

“I don’t think I want to know what else you like,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You used to get embarrassed and rattled by customers making comments like this, but at some point something had changed inside you. Now you just get annoyed, no matter how hot the person may be.

“Feisty,” he says, smile changing slightly in a way you can’t parse, “I like that too.” You roll your eyes, making a quiet noise of disgust. It’s not great for business to react to customers this way, but you can’t help it.

“I like it when men are silent,” you reply, able to feel how withering your gaze is. His expression changes yet again, smile getting smaller but more genuine, scrunching the bottom of his eyes up a little. That feels more natural to you, looks more right on his face. Something about the new softness in his eyes soothes something inside of you.

The coffee machine beeps to signal that it’s ready, and you waste no time in grabbing the pot and filling the cup. You hand it off to him, giving your biggest, most obviously fake smile.

“Have a fantastic night,” you say, immediately rounding the counter and heading back to the booth. When you settle back into your seat, Brady is smiling at you like you’ve told the funniest joke in the world.

“What?” you ask, picking up your pen. Brady’s eyes flick up above your head, slightly to the left, staying there, prompting you to turn around. The man is standing behind you, small smile still in place.

“Brady’s told me so much about you,” he says, and it dawns on you, “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Matthew.” Your jaw falls open and you turn back to Brady, kicking him in the shin under the table. He yelps; Matthew laughs.

“You’re both the worst,” you spit, trying to hold onto your irritation and failing. You laugh alongside the brothers, begrudgingly amused by the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Sorry about that back there,” Matthew apologizes, seemingly genuine, “I couldn’t help myself.” You shake your head at him as he bullies Brady further into the booth so he can sit. Brady shoves him back, but moves his things over anyway.

“It’s okay,” you say, pointing at him, “But if you ever pull that shit again, I’m banning you from the shop.” That startles a laugh out of him.

“I didn’t know you had the power to do that,” he replies, using his crossed arms to lean on the table.

“I do now,” you say, tilting your chin up, “Gonna put a picture up of you with a big X on it and everything.” You stare at each other for a second, and he breaks first, ducking his head as he laughs.

“Fair enough,” he concedes, looking up at you through his lashes. Your heart skips a beat, but you do your best to seem unaffected. This is your friend’s brother, for Christ’s sake. You can’t be all aflutter over him. You’re not sure you have a choice in the matter.

June, 2023

You might actually kill your coworker one day. He’s such a smug rat bastard, and every meeting including both of you makes you think you’re going to grind your teeth into dust. It’s just lucky that the job is remote, so you don’t have to be around him physically. Probably best for both your sanity and his safety.

“I mean, at least you were right in the end?” Terri says, sounding uncertain through your headphones. You’re sauteeing some onions and peppers, moving them around more than you should be just for something to do with your hands.

“Yeah, I guess,” you sigh, “I just don’t understand why he wants to make me look bad.” Ian– the coworker– seems to always have some kind of comment on your work, some type of criticism. Constructive criticism is part of the game, but his is never constructive. It doesn’t help that you’re the only two in the graphics department, so he’s always there when you present work. And really, being the only two should mean that you work together and support each other, honestly.

“Because he’s an insecure man-child,” Terri replies easily. You shake your head down at the vegetables, startling as the oven timer goes off. You jab at the button to turn it off, opening the door to remove the chicken.

“I think I’ve had enough of insecure man-children,” you grumble. You cut open one of the chicken breasts with more force than is strictly necessary, grateful that it seems to be done.

“You finally wanna talk about that?” Terri asks, and honestly? No, you don’t. Ideally, you’ll never talk about it, just push it down into the darkest recesses of your mind and bury it there. Unfortunately, you possess some level of emotional maturity, which means you know that you have to talk about it eventually.

It’s hard, because despite Brady being your best friend, you can’t exactly talk to him about this. If he knew any part of what’s been going on, he’d probably go physically fight Matthew on your behalf. Part of you thinks that might actually make you feel a little better. But he’d also probably be mad that you’ve had a not-thing with his brother, and that would make you feel worse.

“She seems like a nice woman,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral. Terri sighs, and you take your plate of food to the living room to eat.

“She’s not the problem, here,” she says. She’s right, and you know it. You really don’t have anything against Tessa, and obviously you can’t blame her for any of this. Clearly, she had no idea about your not-thing with Matthew, and genuinely fell for him. There’s no point in being mad at her.

“Yeah, well,” you push some food around your plate, “He’s a fuckface and she can have him.” The mention of Matthew has ruined your appetite, the meal now looking completely unappealing. You push the plate to the other side of the coffee table with a huff. You’ll try eating again later, you tell yourself, knowing that you haven’t been eating nearly enough lately. You can’t help it, your inner turmoil chasing away your hunger most of the time.

“He is a fuckface,” Terri agrees, adding, “But don’t pretend you don’t still want him.” Ugh. Friends are the worst, actually, and you should just become a hermit in a cave somewhere. There’s no point even trying to deny the claim, both of you knowing that she’s right.

“I’m not allowed to want him anymore,” you say, voice coming out weaker than you want to admit, “I never should have let myself want him in the first place.” In the beginning, despite being attracted to Matthew, it was easy to maintain distance. He was in Calgary most of the year, and reminding yourself that he was your new friend’s brother actually worked as a deterrent back then.

You can’t pinpoint exactly when you started letting yourself get caught up, but you’d ended up completely entangled with him. Now he’s put that distance back between you, ripping away the strings you’d been tied up in, leaving you with all these empty spaces where he used to be. And it’s making you hate yourself, knowing that if you’d just kept things cordial, restricted your attention and connection to Brady like you should have, you wouldn’t be feeling any of this right now.

“You can’t help who you love,” Terri says, so gently that it only hurts more. You’re not fragile, okay? You don’t need the softness, the careful handling. You’re not fragile. You’re not.

“I gotta go eat,” you say, not wanting to lie, but needing a way out of the conversation, “Bye, Ter.” She says your name, but you just repeat the goodbye. She sighs, says goodbye, and you hang up. What you should do is eat something and go to sleep. Instead, you eye the easel in the corner of the living room. You sigh, heaving yourself up off of the couch to go grab a glass of water to rinse your brushes with.

April, 2019

It’s probably going to become your new favorite day of the year: the day Brady comes home from Ottawa. His plane had landed yesterday, and his parents had even brought you to the airport with them to pick him up. As quickly as you’d bonded last summer, you’d only gotten closer through the season. It feels like you can talk to each other about anything, like you were meant to meet, like he’s the platonic version of a soulmate. You had patiently waited your turn to hug him after his parents, squeezing him as tightly as you could manage. He’d only squeezed back harder.

With their seasons ending right around the same time this year, Matthew had landed the same night. Knowing they’d have to go back to the airport, the Tkachuks had decided to just spend the day out instead of going home. They’d invited you to come with them, an invitation you’d eagerly accepted. They’re quickly starting to feel like family to you, and you love spending time with them. For the first time in your life, it feels like you fit somewhere.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to come along to pick up Matthew. You’d had to work last night, so the Tkachuks had dropped you off at home to get changed and get going. You’d still gotten to spend most of the day with them, which would have to be enough.

You’re going over to their place today, and you decided to bake and bring along cookies. All of their local family and friends are going to be there to welcome the boys home, and you haven’t met most of them yet, so you want to make a good first impression. Besides, it’s just polite to bring something along to someone’s house.

Though Brady still tries to hug you when you arrive, despite your hands being full, the plates need to be deposited on the dining room table before he can get a real one. There are a few people chatting in the room, so Brady introduces you to them.

Most of the next hour goes much the same, Brady introducing you to family and friends, having small conversations with all of them. You know that Brady isn’t trying to embarrass you, but he has a habit of hyping you up to people. He’s more outgoing than you are, and he uses that social ease to brag about how smart you are, how talented. It feels a little like he’s trying to justify being your friend to them, but you know better than to think that Brady cares what anyone thinks of him and his choices.

The kitchen exits onto a large cherry wood deck, scattered with chairs, some of them already occupied. The back yard is sprawling, green grass lined with lush bushes. There’s a pool to the right, not opened for the summer yet, a jacuzzi positioned between it and the house. You’re still not really used to all of this, the casual wealth of the family. It’s so far from what you’d grown up with, something that had astonished you when you’d realized just how far above you the Tkachuks are.

There are a few yard games set up in the grass, cornhole and ladders and something you don’t recognize. And there, in the center of the yard, Matthew is teaching a child how to play ladders. The kid is probably a cousin, of which they have many. Matthew is barefoot, wearing a bright red Flames hoodie and black shorts that only come to mid-thigh. You’ve narrowed your staring down to a minimum, so your eyes only linger for a second or two before you turn back to Brady.

He guides you around to meet the few people braving the chilly spring weather, much as he had done inside. Everyone is so nice, saying how pleased they are to meet you, and seeming to mean it.

Your last stop is Matthew, who interrupts his lesson to hug you. It’s only the second time the two of you have done so, the first having been the last time you saw him before he left for the season. Despite that fact, he squeezes you almost as hard as Brady had, as if you’re his best friend too. Not that you’d presume to be Brady’s best friend, but. Still.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he says when you pull apart, and the expression on his face tells you how genuine it is. Your smile is almost involuntary, turning up the corners of your mouth and baring just a hint of teeth.

“Welcome home, Matthew,” you reply, “We missed you.” You’re not sure what “we” you’re referring to, but it feels less incriminating than saying “I missed you”. You get the feeling that he understands anyway, beaming at you.

The three of you chat for a few minutes, Matthew introducing you to his little cousin. With there being four of you, you decide to play a game of ladders, to test the little one’s skills. He’s pretty good, for a kid, and you and Brady make sure to throw well enough to convince him that you’re trying, but still let him win. Throughout, Matthew gives him tips and instruction, so kind and gentle that it makes your heart ache. They cheer when they win, high fiving and teasing you and Brady.

You go inside to spend some time with Keith and Chantal. Chantal gives you a big hug, as if she hadn’t just seen you yesterday. Keith gives you a hearty clap on the shoulder. Taryn appears at some point, sneaking up behind you and poking your sides to make you jump. You laugh along with her, enfolding her into the conversation easily.

Time flies by, the sun setting around you, the house lights turning on one by one as darkness descends. Eventually, you end up lounging in the den with the other adult kids. From your visits last year, the chair in the corner has become yours. You’re settled in, legs folded up under you as something that no one is watching plays on the TV. Brady and Taryn get into a heated debate about something or another, and Matthew gives you a long-suffering look as his younger siblings bicker. You just smile back at him, finding the family’s passion entirely endearing.

“Seventeen years of this,” Matthew gripes, clearly not as annoyed as he’s trying to seem.

“And sixty more to go,” you reply. Matthew chuckles at that, looking to Brady and Taryn with such fondness that you almost can’t stand it. It’s the kind of relationship you’d wanted with your own brothers, but that’s best not to think about.

“Hopefully,” Matthew says, turning that fond look toward you. Your heart skips a beat, and you’ve gotten good at ignoring that.

May, 2019

You shouldn’t be this nervous, but you are. Terri is on speaker phone, telling you about her new job. You’re half-listening, staring at the clothing laid out on your bed. You’ve been agonizing all morning about what you’re going to wear, how you’re going to do your makeup, if you should wear makeup at all.

“I’m glad that your boss defended you,” you say to Terri, still tuned in enough to follow her story, “She seems cool.”

“She’s so cool,” Terri gushes, “She’s my favorite now.” You’re so happy that Terri has finally found a good job, especially with how hellish her previous one had been. This one pays almost double what she was getting before, too, which definitely doesn’t hurt. She expounds a little more about the things she loves about her boss, and you decide to hang back up the dresses you’ve laid out. It’s still a little too chilly to wear them, especially after sundown.

“You’re still staring at those damn clothes, aren’t you?” Terri asks, switching the topic suddenly. Your face gets warm as you make a plaintive hand gesture, despite her not being able to see you.

“Clothes are stupid and I can’t decide,” you complain, trying to imagine how each of the final two options will come across. If you try too hard, Matthew might think that you think this is a date, but you still want to look good. You know it’s not a date, but you’re still kind of acting like it is, and it’s embarrassing.

“Definitely wear jeans,” Terri advises, “That’ll make it more casual.” You agree, putting away the skirt you’d paired with the one shirt, trying to picture how it would look with jeans. You move the pants between each shirt, before giving up and just putting them on. You’ll just try on both outfits and see which one you like better.

Once dressed in the first option, you take a picture to send to Terri. You look at yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that. After a minute or two of consideration, you switch tops. You take another picture and send both to Terri for her opinion.

“Oh, definitely the second one,” she says, “The first one makes you look like you’re going to a job interview.” You look at the picture again, and can’t deny that she’s right. You put that one away, settled in your decision. You’re not sure if Matthew has ever seen you in anything but jeans and a t-shirt, so you hope the red tank top layered with a tucked-in sheer pink printed blouse isn’t too much of a change.

When Matthew had invited you to take a walk around the park yesterday, just the two of you. You’ve never spent more than a few minutes alone with him, always having Brady or Taryn or Emma to provide distraction and distance. This time you’ll have nothing to focus on but him.

The time comes soon enough, and you gather your things, not wanting to make Matthew wait for you when he arrives. You’d offered to drive yourself and meet him there, but he’d waved off the idea immediately, saying that he’d pick you up.

A knock comes at your door right on time. You take a deep breath before you open it, settling your frenzied heart. Matthew smiles as soon as he sees you.

“Oh wow,” he says, almost absentmindedly, “You look great.” Your blush is immediate, and you hope he can’t see it. It seems that anything that comes out of his mouth makes you blush, sometimes.

The drive to the park isn’t too long. When you arrive, you gather your bag from the floor of the passenger seat, and by time you move to get a hand on the door handle, Matthew is already opening the door from the outside. It’s a sweet surprise, and you thank him as you climb out of the car.

It’s a nice day, not too cold or windy for once. The two of you walk, talking about this and that, moving from topic to topic as they arise. You point out a few birds as you go, and Matthew listens to the little fun facts you give about them. He seems genuinely interested, but even if he’s not, at least he’s polite enough to pretend.

“I guess we should have left a little earlier,” Matthew remarks as the sun goes down, the light fading around you. The sun sets quickly this time of year, so you’re still a few minutes out from the car by time it’s completely dark. The lights along the pathway bathe Matthew in yellow light, casting warm shadows in the dips and hollows of his face.

“At least I have a big, strong man to protect me,” you joke, elbowing him.

“Oh no, if we get jumped I’m running,” he replies, shooting a shit-eating grin down at you. You gasp and press a hand to your heart, as if you’re truly scandalized.

“You would really abandon me like that?” you ask. His smile softens at the edges.

“Never,” he says, looking so genuine that it makes your heart flutter, pausing before he adds, “Unless we’re getting robbed.” Your combined laughter rings out through the trees.

June, 2023

You’ve managed to avoid any questions about your odd behavior, and it’s getting easier to act normal over time. A couple weeks have passed since your first meeting with Tessa, and you still feel like ripping your skin off when you see her touching Matthew, but you’ve gotten better at hiding it. It’s not your place to be upset, anyway.

The diner is bustling at this time of day, the tail end of lunch rush. You had to wait a little bit to get seated, but now you’re sitting at the end of a booth in a chair they’d pulled up to the edge to make up for all five of you not fitting into the booth. It makes you feel a little left out, the only one not paired off, a fifth wheel to the two couples on either side of the table. You block that out, a skill you’ve had for years, but have had to strengthen rapidly over the past few weeks.

Brady has an arm around Emma’s shoulders, and you can tell by the angle of Matthew’s arm that he has a hand on Tessa’s thigh. You remember when that was you, Matthew touching you so casually, so naturally. Sitting across from Matthew as he nudges your foot under the table, sitting next to him with your shoulders pressed together, fingers tangled together on the seat, where no one could see.

Emma is telling a story about a night out with some of her girlfriends, and you’re laughing along at the antics with everyone else. When she asks you about work, you try to clear the perpetual lump in your throat before answering, succeeding in sounding happy, though the tightness remains.

When your food arrives, you spend most of the time pushing it around your plate to make it look like you’re eating. You never have an appetite around Matthew anymore, weirdly embarrassed about being seen eating in a way you haven’t been since you were a teenager. You’ll take it home and eat it later, if you can stop thinking about Matthew for two fucking seconds.

You’re not sure how long that’s going to be impossible, but you hope it’s not much longer.

January, 2020

You’ve been to a few games when the boys have played the Blues, but you’ve never made the trip up to Canada to see them play each other before. Ottawa is nice, Brady and Emma having shown you around a little when you’d arrived. Your nerves had been shot from the anxiety of traveling abroad for the first time, even though it was just to Canada. The couple seemed to understand, only taking you around for a few hours before bringing you home.

Brady’s apartment is nice, really nice. He’s offered you the guest room for a few days, and you appreciate not having to pay for a hotel. He’ll be home for six days before he has to go to St. Louis for the All Star game, so you’d arranged to stay in Ottawa and fly back home with them.

Luckily, the cafe is pretty cool about rearranging your schedule, so you’ll just have to work some extra days when you go back to make up for what you’re missing. You’d asked for the days of the skills competition and game off as well, Brady having managed to get you a ticket. Your manager has always thought it was cool that you were friends with the Tkachuks, so she had agreed to give you the time off if you brought her a souvenir. Matthew and Brady had offered to sign a jersey for her without you even having to ask, and you’ll owe them for a while, though they insist you don’t.

Matthew gets in that first night, the three of you meeting him at his hotel. You’re not sure how he managed it, but he’ll be staying a few days instead of returning to Calgary with the team after the game. Maybe he got a special exception because this game is the last before All Star week, and he has to go to St. Louis anyway. No matter the reason, you’re glad he gets to stay.

The game the next night is exciting, and definitely worth the trip. With the Senators’ performance in recent years, it’s mostly the diehard fans left, so the atmosphere is electric. You get swept up in the passion and joy, especially when the game ends with a 5-2 win for Ottawa.

The boys have to debrief and get changed, which you know will take a while. Emma and you wait with the WAGs, Emma excited to introduce you to them. Some of them think you’re a new WAG at first, which is honestly kind of flattering. All of the ladies are surprisingly kind and welcoming, and you enjoy interacting with them as you all wait.

Matthew emerges first, guided down the hallway by one of the arena staff. His steps pick up pace when he sees you and Emma, and he shoots a quick thanks to the staff member before jogging over to the two of you. He immediately enfolds you in his arms, squeezing tight and holding longer than usual. You know it’s difficult for him to lose at all, let alone to his brother, so you let him hold you as long as he wants.

Once he lets you go, he meets your eyes. His smile is soft, tinged with a slight sadness that you want to wipe away.

“Hey there, sweet girl,” he greets, and your breath catches at the term of endearment. He’d started using it a few months ago, and it still makes your chest tight. You know that it doesn’t mean anything, but you still imagine sometimes that it does.

He turns his attention to Emma, giving her a hug as well, just one quick squeeze before releasing. The three of you start talking, waiting patiently for Brady. It doesn’t shock you that he takes so long to come out, knowing his unofficial position of leadership in the team. The guys come out one by one, hugging and kissing their wives and girlfriends, the number of ladies dwindling as they leave with their men.

When Brady finally emerges, he heads straight over to give Emma a hug and kiss. He hugs you next, before punching Matthew’s shoulder. They have a little back-and-forth as you all exit the arena, taking harmless jabs at each other all the way to the car.

The main issue with the living arrangements for the trip had been that Brady and Emma were going to have two guests and only one spare room. Matthew had offered to sleep on the couch, but he’s too tall for that, and you don’t want him to end up sore or hurting his neck during the season. You’d insisted that you’d sleep on the couch, but both Matthew and Brady had immediately vetoed that idea. Then you’d found out that the guest room has two twin beds instead of one bigger one, and the answer was simple.

Matthew sets his suitcase and backpack next to the door when you get home. You’ve already claimed the bed on the far side, so he gets set up on the one closer to the door. Emma and Brady are in the kitchen, making a post-game snack for everyone, so it’s just you and Matthew.

“You excited to be roomies for a week?” he asks, unzipping his suitcase. Yours is already open under the window, so you grab some pajamas out of it.

“Depends how loud you snore,” you tease. He shoots you a toothy smile.

“Oh, it’s gonna be loud,” he says. You chuckle a bit, knowing he’s joking. Emma calls for you, then, and you leave your clothes on the bed to go to her. The four of you converse as you eat, seated in a row at the kitchen island. You’ve got Matthew to one side and Brady to the other, and they take turns kicking your ankles. You kick back, grinning at Emma when she kicks Brady’s other side.

Brady and Matthew had already showered at the rink, so they sit in the living room while you and Emma get ready for bed. She uses the master suite, and you use the bathroom in the hall. It’s nice, if small, with a simple stall shower instead of a tub. You go through your routine on autopilot, only realizing when you’re done that you’d left your clothes in the bedroom. You wrap yourself in a towel, doing your best to sneak past the door to the living room.

When you look to make sure your stealth is working, you meet Matthew’s eyes. It stops you in your tracks. You can’t discern the look on his face, and you’re not sure that you care to. He shoots you an easy smile, and you wave at him like an idiot, acting on instinct. It only makes him smile wider, and you scurry off to the room.

After you’re dressed, there’s a knock on the door. Brady asks if you’re decent, and you confirm that you are, so he peeks his head in. Once he sees that you truly are dressed, he opens the door the rest of the way. He and Emma bid you good night, telling you to just ask if you need anything. You thank them and say good night in return, Matthew entering the room as soon as the other two retreat to their own room. He’s barely two steps into the room before he’s pulling off his shirt.

“Woah there, cowboy,” you say, holding up a hand in front of you. He just shrugs at you.

“Gotta get ready for bed,” he says, bending over and lifting his foot to remove his socks. You’d figured that he would wear a t-shirt and shorts to bed like you, but you should’ve guessed he’d be the type to sleep shirtless, no matter who’s around. He’s naked in front of thirty people every day, who cares about being shirtless?

You do your best to brush it off, turning down the covers of your bed so that you can crawl in. Normally, you would read for a bit before bed, but you’re tired enough tonight that you don’t think you need to. You pull the blankets up to your chin, turning on your side. Unfortunately, you sleep on your right, so you end up facing Matthew’s bed. Is that weird? Should you try sleeping the opposite direction?

Matthew doesn’t say anything, flicking the lights off and crawling into bed. He sleeps on his left, apparently, so he’s facing you too. That’s a little awkward, right? As your eyes adjust to the dark, you’re able to see the glint of his teeth as he smiles over at you.

“Sleep well, sweet girl,” he says quietly. You return the sentiment, grateful that the darkness means he probably can’t fully see the embarrassment on your face. You’re backlit by the window, so you convince yourself that he can’t.

The next morning, you wake to Matthew already out of bed, stretching. Your eyes roam his back, taking in the dips and ridges of his muscles. Only at the last second do you realize that his head is turned to the side, and he’s staring at you through the corner of his eye. You quickly avert your gaze, turning to sit bolt upright on the other side of the bed, facing the window.

The four of you spend the day exploring the city, Brady and Emma seeming to have planned what they want to show you. It’s nice, peaceful and fun. You make them take pictures with you in front of landmarks or cool art pieces, all of you squished together to fit in the selfie.

It isn’t until the fourth night that anything out of the ordinary happens. You’re lying in bed, having turned on your back to stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep. You probably shouldn’t have had that affogato after dinner, though usually they don’t bother you this much. No matter how long you toss and turn, how many sleeping positions you try, you can’t even make yourself tired, let alone actually fall asleep.

“What are you, a rotisserie chicken?” Matthew asks rhetorically, breaking the silence. His voice is hushed, but it still startles you. You turn your head to stare at him, finding him staring right back.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, sheepish, “I can’t sleep.” Matthew’s lips quirk up at one end.

“Me either,” he says, sitting up. You mimic his posture, then scoot back to lean against the headboard. He slings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, and you think for a second that he’s going to turn on the light. Instead, he takes the two steps to your bed, motioning to the mattress. You nod, prompting him to start shoving your shoulder, bullying you into making space for him. You giggle, trying to keep quiet to respect the late hour.

“So,” he leads, taking a long moment to just stare at you before continuing, “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” You’re taken off guard by the request, not sure how to respond.

“I was an Aaron Carter girl growing up,” you pull out of thin air. Matthew’s face breaks into a wide smile, sunshine in the middle of the night.

“Really?” he asks. You nod, mumbling “yeah” in confirmation. That’s all it takes to get you both talking. You trade off back and forth, telling each other small things about yourself that may not come up otherwise, launching into short discussions about some of the statements.

“My favorite color is red,” he says at one point, when you’re starting to think you may fall asleep.

“I thought it was blue?” you reply, remembering Chantal mention that at some point. Matthew starts fiddling with his hands.

“I tell people it’s blue, but it’s really red,” he says. You tilt your head an inch or two, furrowing your brow at him.

“Why?” you ask. He ducks his head.

“Red is an angry color,” he explains, voice quieter than before, “With my reputation, I don’t want people to associate me with an aggressive color. I don’t want to play into the stereotype.” You hum, looking forward. It feels like this isn’t the best time to look at him, like he’ll clam up if you witness his vulnerability.

“It’s also the color of vitality, excitement, love,” you counter, leaving just a breath of a pause, “It’s a good color for you.” The entire room is still for a dragging moment, before Matthew gently knocks your shoulders together.

“What about you?” he asks when you look back to him. There’s a fraction of a change in his face, but you don’t comment on it.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re still sitting up, head resting on Matthew’s shoulder, his head laying on top of yours. You suppress the instinct to startle, not wanting to disrupt him, lest he wake up and move. His skin is warm under your cheek, your arms lined up from shoulder to the knuckles of your fingers. You close your eyes again, trying to keep your breathing steady, as if you’re still sleeping. You’ve been trying so hard to keep distance between Matthew and yourself, but you’ll allow yourself to enjoy this, just for a moment longer.

There’s a shift in Matthew’s breathing, his fingers twitching against yours. It settles after a second, into a different pattern, intentionally deep and even. You’re sure that he’s awake, that he’s doing the same thing that you are. You’re not sure what to do with that information.

The rest of the trip goes by smoothly, Brady and Emma showing you both the touristy things and the better local spots around the city. If the same thing happens the next night, and the night after that, you and Matthew talking in low voices until you fall asleep against each other, neither of you mention it.

April, 2020

While the initial prediction for lockdown was that it would only last a month, it’s clear that it’s going to last much, much longer.

It’s probably lucky that you’d just started a new job, one that can be done remotely, rather than either working at the coffee shop or being laid off. It’s not exactly what you want to do, but it’s at least in the artistic field, so you try to be grateful anyway. It’s difficult being locked away in your apartment, but you’re grateful that you’re luckier than essential workers and people who are losing their jobs altogether.

The thing that keeps you sane in all of this is your phone. More specifically, it’s your friends. You’ve developed almost a schedule with it, calling Terri in the morning for an hour or so before work. At lunch, you facetime Brady and Emma for another hour, not envying them being stuck so far from home. It must be hard to be in an entirely different country than your family.

The highlight of each day is the evening, when you facetime Matthew. Though he spends most of the day sending you videos and memes and updates about whatever little thing he’s doing at the moment, it’s still nice to talk to him out loud. Seeing his face helps your growing loneliness a little bit.

You’re in your living room, your phone propped up against the arm of the couch as you show off the few things you’ve made since picking up crochet a couple weeks ago. Matthew compliments each of them, commending you for your improvement. He’s the only one you’ve shown, too embarrassed to let anyone else see the wonky scarves with uneven stitches.

“You have time to work on any paintings lately?” he asks, once you’re done your little show and tell. The truth is that you’ve got three new canvases drying in the kitchen. The truth is also that the man asking about them is the inspiration for their creation. There’s nothing incriminating about them; it’s not like they’re portraits of him or something. But you’re still hesitant to show him, because even if he doesn’t know, you do.

You show him anyway. The painting of the park is his favorite, and you wonder if he knows that it’s the one you went to for your first time alone together. It’s mostly dark, greens and blues so deep they look black, yellow triangles of light splitting the canvas into section. If you look closely enough, the brush strokes fill in the details of the trees, the grass, the pavement. Your phone camera isn’t good enough for Matthew to see that, but he compliments it anyway.

“You should paint me something for my apartment,” he says after you show him all three. You’re not opposed to the idea, actually enjoy the thought of something you made being showcased in his home.

“What do you want?” you ask, a hundred ideas already flitting through your mind. The only way you’ve seen his apartment is through the background of pictures he sends you sometimes, or little glimpses you catch as he walks around while you facetime. You’re not entirely sure of the vibe, but you’re sure you can figure something out.

“What makes you think of me?” he asks in return. You stop in your tracks in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. The hand holding your phone lowers a couple inches unintentionally, your gaze drifting above the screen, staring into the middle distance. What makes you think of him? Hockey, obviously. Family. Curling up under a blanket on a cold night. Laying on the couch with your feet up on the armrest, your head propped up on a pillow, a sad replacement for his lap. Spruce trees, gold, pitbulls, mushroom pizza, black eyes– both the drink and the wound.

Everything. Everything makes you think of him.

You can’t say that, obviously. You search your brain for something personal but innocuous, something sentimental but still acceptable. You think of all the time that you two have spent together over the past few years, memories springing up, some that you’d even forgotten about. Some that you’ll never be able to forget about.

“Can I surprise you?” you ask. You’re given that familiar smile in response, any iteration of which makes your heart stutter in your chest.

“Yeah,” he says, propping his face up with one hand on his jaw, “I trust you.”

July, 2023

Some people may say that Terri’s apartment is cluttered, but you just find it cozy. She has decorations and knick-knacks on every surface, but the comfiest couch you’ve ever sat on. That’s where you are now, stretched out with your back against the side, Terri mimicking your posture at the other end, your legs tangled together in the middle.

“We should see the Barbie movie when it comes out,” she says, unprompted. You look up from the hook and yarn in your hands, tipping your head to the side for a second and shrugging.

“It looks good,” you say, an indirect agreement. You haven’t been to the movies since before lockdown, so it might be nice to go back.

“D’you think Gabe would want to come?” she asks cautiously, “He could bring the kids.” The mention of your brother still makes ice crawl in your chest, but it’s not as bad as it once was. He’d reached out last year, trying to reconnect with you, and apparently your other brother too. You’ve only seen him a few times since, but it’s more than you’d seen him in the four years prior, combined.

“It’s worth a shot, right?” Terri asks, eyes flicking toward your phone sitting on the coffee table. You look toward it as well, debating for a second. It would be nice to see your nieces and nephews, but it also hurts that they barely know who you are.

“Yeah,” you agree after a second, “Worth a shot.” You grab your phone, feeling as if it’s going to explode in your hands if you move too quickly. There are a few notifications when you wake the screen, which you ignore to unlock it. You open your texts, backing out of your thread with Terri from earlier. You have a picture message from Brady, just a selfie of him and Emma smiling, which you send a heart in response to. Backing out of that thread, you see another new message, underneath the contact name you haven’t had the heart to change. The red and purple hearts next to his name– each of your favorite colors– having been there so long that getting rid of them feels wrong, no matter how it makes your chest hurt to see them.

Can we talk?

You tap the back button as quickly as you can. You can’t respond. You should, to be polite, but you can’t. If you do, you’ll say something you regret. It’ll probably be agreement or the words “eat shit”, and either option will get you into trouble. You can’t respond. You want so badly to talk to him. You want so desperately to go back in time and never meet him.

Your fingers tremble as you draft a text to your brother, typing and deleting and re-typing a few times before you settle on the wording. You have more important things to worry about than Matthew.

August, 2020

The bubble was an interesting idea. It may not be the best idea in the world, despite the safety precautions, but you know Matthew is just happy to be back on the ice. He’s already sent you a dozen pictures of the hotel, of him with his teammates and friends, masked up together in the lobby. You tell him to tell the boys that you say hello, and he texts you each of their responses.

The first round goes well, the Flames only losing one game to the Jets. You know Matthew had been worried about going through all the rules and protocols just to be eliminated immediately, so you’re glad that that isn’t the case.

The series against the Stars starts out with an exciting back-and-forth, the teams trading off wins. Then the Stars win game 5, breaking the pattern. You’re not expecting the last game to actually be the last, convinced that the Flames would at least make it to a game seven. But the Stars pull a decisive 7-3 win, the Flames falling apart in the second period and unable to get themselves back together.

Matthew has called you as soon as he got back to his hotel room after every game, so you’re expecting your phone to ring some time in the next hour or two. You putter around the apartment a little, putting away some dishes and wiping down the kitchen counters. You’d been painting during the game, a commission from a friend of a friend of a friend. You return to that, losing yourself in the meticulous movements of your brush.

It feels like it’s been too long. You try to focus on the canvas in front of you, but there’s a nagging sense in the back of your mind that something is wrong. It sits heavy at the base of your skull as you try to ignore it.

Eventually, it becomes too much. You check your phone to make sure that you haven’t missed his call, but there are no notifications. It’s been a little over two hours. You unlock your phone and pull up his contact in a second, pressing the video icon. Typically, he’ll pick up after one or two rings, but you hear the third ring, the fourth. The call disconnects, shock shooting up your spine. It only lasts a second, your phone ringing with a voice call almost immediately.

“Hey sweet girl,” Matthew greets you in his typical fashion as soon as you accept the call. There’s something off about his voice, and it takes you a second to realize what it is.

“Hey there, darling,” you respond, voice as gentle as you can manage. It’s not the first time you’ve heard Matthew cry, but it breaks your heart every time. As much as he tries to seem tough and aloof, you know how deeply losses like this affect him. Now it makes sense that he didn’t want video involved.

“How are you?” he asks, clearly moving his face away from the receiver as he sniffles, but you can still hear it. You move to the couch, sinking into the cushions, as if you’re as crushed as he is.

“I’m okay,” you reply, “You holding up okay?” You know he’ll say that he’s fine, but you also know that he’s not. He may not be for a while. There’s a pause, a long stretch of silence, only interrupted by his deep, labored breaths.

“I wish you were here,” he says. He sounds absolutely miserable, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence. The urge to hold him is overwhelming, your arms buzzing with the desire to wrap around him. You want to pull him down into your lap, let him tuck his head into the crook of your neck, let him cry on you as you scratch his scalp and kiss his head. Lockdown isn’t the only reason that can’t happen.

“I’m going to hug you so hard,” you insist, “As soon as I can see you again.”

July, 2023

While you’re still a third wheel with Brady and Emma, it’s better than being a fifth wheel with the entire group. You’d asked Taryn if she wanted to tag along, but she has training to do. Brady had already done his that morning, so he’s free for the rest of the day, and had invited you to spend some time together.

You’re certain that he doesn’t know how you feel about this place, how much it hurts to be here. As far as he’s aware, this is your favorite park, the one you visit with Matthew at least a few times a month every summer. He probably thinks it’s a great choice, something to cheer you up from the slump you know he’s noticed.

Despite the memories tugging at you from every direction, you’re mostly in a good mood. You’d gotten excellent news the day before yesterday, an opportunity you’ve dreamed of for a long time. You wanted to text Brady right after the meeting to tell him, but you’d decided it was better to share it with him and Emma in person. You’re debating something that absolutely doesn’t matter, all of you talking over each other. You’re waiting for the right moment to change the conversation. It doesn’t come until almost an hour into your walk, but you jump on it as soon as it does.

“I have some cool news,” you say, breaking the silent pause that had fallen over the group.

“Well?” Emma replies, “Go on.” The excitement is bubbling up inside of you again at the thought of it, your stomach turning, your chest too full.

“You know that gallery downtown that I love?” you ask, continuing after they agree, “I’m going to do a show there.” They stop in their tracks, Emma immediately enfolding you in her arms. You hug her back, squeezing tight as she bounces on her toes. When she pulls back, she holds your face in her hands, voice high and thrilled as she congratulates you. The smile on your face is unavoidable, happiness from the news mingling with the happiness of your friends being proud of you.

“Cool news, huh?” Brady asks, lightly smacking your shoulder as he says, “What an understatement.” The circle of his arms feels safe, his chest warm against your cheek as he holds you tight. The look on his face when he releases you is the best reaction you’ve gotten so far, his pride meaning more than anyone else’s.

“When is it?” he asks, taking Emma’s hand in his own once again and resuming the walk. You follow along, too excited to be self-conscious of the visible skip in your step.

“August 20th,” you say. There’s an unspoken question there, a silent invitation. You don’t want him to feel pressured to come, knowing that despite how supportive he is of your artistic endeavors, he’s not big on things like art shows. In the end, you don’t have to ask.

“You know we’re coming, right?” he asks, aiming a crooked smile at you, “You can’t stop us.” Though the smile hasn’t left your face since you brought up the topic, it gets brighter in return.

“I’d never dream of trying to,” you reply, and you mean it.

October, 2020

It’s odd to have the boys around at this time of year, the season usually taking them away at the end of August. You’re grateful for it, though. It means that you get to spend time with them, lockdown finally over, freeing you from the confines of your apartment. Your job has stayed remote, so you’re able to be around even more, saving time on what used to be an hour long commute each way.

Right now, it’s you and the boys, Emma, and Terri. You’d introduced her to them less than a month ago, but they already love her, just as you knew they would. She doesn’t always come around with you, considering how you spend nearly every day at the Tkachuks’, but she has some time today.

After twenty minutes of debating what you should watch, you all agree on a true crime documentary. You’ve given up your chair for Terri, squishing yourself onto the couch with Brady and Emma, pressing your cold feet against her leg and laughing when she yelps. She kicks you, only serving to make you laugh harder. Brady playfully threatens to fight you to defend his woman’s honor, and you put your fists up in front of you, jabbing out into the air as if you’re going to take him up on the offer. He chuckles, reaching out to fist bump you instead of punch. You drop your hands, looking past his big ass head.

Matthew is lounging in the second chair, the leg rest of the recliner up despite his legs being crossed under him. It’s the only way the chair will lean back, he’d told you once, and he doesn’t like sitting upright.

The smile on his face isn’t the wide grin you’d expected. It’s small, a gentle turn of the lips. Combined with the look he’s giving you– something unfocused, something unbearably soft– it implies an emotion that you know can’t be the correct interpretation. You swallow hard, turning your eyes back to Brady.

“Press play already, nerd,” you demand, tone playful enough to show that you don’t mean it. He sticks his tongue out at you, but does as he’s told.

Five minutes in, you glance over at Matthew, finding him already looking at you. You look away, slightly embarrassed to be caught. Another five minutes later, you can’t help but peek back at him again, as if your eyes are magnetized to him. It’s almost disappointing that he’s actually looking at the screen. It only takes a second for his eyes to move to the side, peering at you in his peripheral. The corner of his lips quirks up the tiniest bit, almost unnoticeable. But you notice.

You only make it maybe half an hour into the film before Matthew leans forward and snatches the remote from its place next to Brady. The plaintive sound Brady lets out is kind of funny, but you seem to think everything is funny today. Matthew pauses the show, declaring that the group needs snacks.

“Y/N, come give me a hand,” he says, beckoning you to follow him. You grumble a bit, but stand and follow him up the stairs and out of the den. He leads the way through the living room and into the kitchen. They’re fancy, so they have a walk-in pantry, of course. The two of you enter one after another. You start looking at the snack section, deciding what to grab. The good thing about being the one to retrieve the food is that you get to choose whatever you want and there’s nothing the others can say about it.

You’re rifling through the chips and pretzels when you feel a presence close behind you. It’s obviously Matthew, but he’s so close that you can feel the heat of his body radiating into your back. His left hand comes into your field of vision, pressing to the shelves next to your head. You twist your neck to look back at him, confused as to what he’s doing.

You’re not expecting the look he’s giving you. His eyes dark, completely focused in on your face. Your eyes flick from his eyes to his mouth without your permission. He’s not smiling, his lips parted just a fraction of an inch.

He rests his right hand on your shoulder, using it to turn your entire body around to face him. You can feel how dumbfounded your expression is as you stare up at him, your brow furrowed, your mouth slightly agape. He returns the gesture of looking at your mouth, his tongue quickly flicking out to wet his lips. He looks like he’s about to eat you alive. You would let him.

There’s a long, unbearable stretch of silence as the two of you just stare at each other, faces only a scant few inches apart. If this were anyone else, you would know exactly what’s going on, exactly what they want. But this is Matthew, your insanely wonderful, insanely hot, insanely out of your league friend. There’s no chance that he’s about to do what it feels like he is. No matter how many times you steal glances at each other, how closely he holds you, how many times he allows himself to be vulnerable with you, there’s no chance he’d ever want you. And just as you tell yourself that, he speaks.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his breath brushing across your lips from the proximity. Your eyes go wide, your mouth falling open wider in shock. You’ve spent the last two years valiantly suppressing any type of attraction you have to him, trying to respect his station as your best friend’s brother. And now, in just four words, he’s let it all loose. It floods you inside, so overwhelming, so much to take all at once that it triggers a full system reset. You swear your heart stops, your mouth opening and closing as you struggle to tear the words from your lagging brain.

The words won’t come. The look on Matthew’s face is changing, something embarrassed, something guilty. He moves back an inch and you reach out, unwilling to let him go. You cup his face in your hands, pulling him in to press your lips together.

It’s lingering, almost chaste, and entirely sensational. Your lips are tingling, sparks shooting down your spine. Your chest feels cracked open, your innards exposed for his inspection, your true self exposed for his judgment.

When you pull back and open your eyes, his are still closed. He looks like he’s in heaven, like he’s trying to imprint this moment in his mind the same way that you are. After a moment, his eyelids slide up and he looks at you again. His eyes are hazy, unfocused, his blown pupils leaving only a thin ring of blue around the edge of his iris.

“Again,” he says, breathless, “Please.”

Who are you to deny him?

The second kiss is as good as the first, your breath abandoning your body to pant out against his lips. You meet again, his tongue flicking out for half a second to touch your top lip. It makes you breath hitch, makes you kiss him again, makes you gently bite his full bottom lip. The sound he lets out is barely audible, but it only feeds the fire inside of you, an inferno that blazes up from your hips to your throat. You cradle his face in your hands, hold just strong enough to move his head how you want, to slot your mouths together perfectly each time.

“Hurry up, asshole!”

Brady’s shout violently snaps you out of your haze. You jerk backward, trying to step away, but already pressed against the shelves. Matthew doesn’t seem as put off as you, smiling as if nothing happened. You relinquish your hold on his face, dropping your hands to your sides. His hands had wandered as you kissed, one on your waist, the other on the back of your neck. He squeezes once at the base of your skull, dipping in to give you one last quick kiss.

After frantically grabbing random snacks, you return to the den. You can feel how hot your face is, and you can only hope that it’s not too obvious how flustered you are. You and Matthew deposit the snacks on the coffee table, everyone immediately selecting one. You curl back up in your chair, legs pulled up to your chest as you lay sideways, head on the armrest.

Every time your eyes drift to Matthew for the rest of the evening, he’s looking back.

January, 2021

Just as the day the boys come home is the best day of the year, the day they leave for the season is the worst. Sometimes you wish you were Emma, that you could follow them back and forth and never be without them. But St. Louis is your home, is where you have a job and friends and more recently, family.

You’d helped both boys pack for the past few days, but you won’t be able to go along to drop them off at the airport. When Matthew had left for the playoffs, Emma had offered you her spot in the car. You’d told her that she didn’t have to, but she’d assured you she wanted it that way. She has to go along this time, so the car is already overpacked. Besides, you have to work that morning anyway.

You still show up at the Tkachuks’ beforehand, so early that the sun hasn’t made an appearance yet. Matthew had forgotten to pack his favorite sweater, of course. You fish it out from where it had fallen under his bed, straightening up to hold it out to him. He thanks you, deciding to wear it for the flight instead of shoving it into one of his bags. It looks good on him. Cozy.

Brady and Emma are double checking their room as well, one door down from you. Keith, Chantal, and Taryn are down in the living room, waiting as patiently as they’re capable of, which isn’t very much.

Being alone with Matthew used to be exciting, used to make your heart change its rhythm, used to start up a buzz under your skin. Now, it’s just… comfortable. Safe. Right.

When Matthew approaches you, crowding up into your space, you know exactly what he wants. The first time you’d kissed should have been the last. You’re too drawn to him, feel too much toward him, more than you should. More than he will ever return. The two of you haven’t discussed exactly what you’re doing here, but it’s clearly meant to be casual. Matthew isn’t typically the kind to shy away from voicing what he wants, and he hasn’t spoken up to define anything.

Is that what you want? You’re not sure. Making out like teenagers for months has been nice, has satisfied a part of you. But only a part.

You’re avoiding thinking about what you want, too afraid of what you’ll find. Some part of you, buried deep inside, hidden behind a recently built wall, already knows. If you allow yourself to acknowledge it, this will end badly. If you allow yourself to want, you’ll destroy yourself in the process.

The kisses he lays on your lips stay sweet, gentle presses, just a tease of tongue here and there. His arms are wrapped around you, resting on your shoulders, while your hands rest on his hips. You haven’t progressed past kissing, and you’re not sure if he wants anything beyond this. You’ll take what you can get.

Keith calls up the stairs for you to hurry up, lest the boys miss their flights. Matthew leaves one last peck on your lips, just as he always does before you part. You glance around his room a final time, making sure everything is packed. You help him bring his bags downstairs, help him and Emma get their things outside and into the car. You’ll have to go home as soon as they depart, and you’re actually a little grateful that you have work to distract you from the first hours of missing them.

As per usual, Emma is the first to hug you. You squeeze tight so that you can lift her off of her feet for a second, just to make her laugh. Brady grabs you next, as if both of them know that Matthew wants to be last. Brady wiggles you side to side, planting a kiss on the top of your head. You headbutt his shoulder, then kiss the same spot you’d hit. He says how much he’ll miss you, something he always reiterates for a few days before he leaves. You return the sentiment honestly, earnestly. When he pulls back, you punch his chest lightly, and he returns the gesture.

Matthew steps up and opens his arms, and you step into them easily. He doesn’t squeeze too hard, just holds you close, hand cupping the back of your neck, calming your anxiety and dulling the sharp edge of your pain.

“Gonna miss you so much, sweet girl,” he whispers into your hair, just loud enough for you to hear. You try to swallow the lump that has suddenly formed in your throat.

“Miss you already,” you reply, a little uneven, a little raw, “Can’t wait to see you again.” He places a kiss on your head as Brady had, but his lips linger, hesitant to let go. But he does let go.

They all wave as they drive off, Brady, Emma, Matthew, and Taryn all crammed into the back seat. You wave back, watching the car go, staring down the street even after the car turns and disappears.

Time to work, you suppose.

July, 2023

Art has never frustrated you so much in your life.

When you were young, the struggle and annoyance came from trying to get things just right, though they were above your skill level. As a teenager, it was due to the struggle of developing your own unique style. In college, it was not having the energy to paint most days, falling asleep at the easel others.

For the past month, the art has been flowing. You’ve been painting most every day, the ideas coming easily, creating almost a compulsion that you can’t resist. It’s only satisfied when the painting is complete. There are a couple dozen or so canvases scattered around your apartment to dry, the most you’ve ever produced in a single month. But the frustration– the frustration comes from the fact that all of your ideas are about him. All of your paintings are moments with him, things he’d said, how you’d felt, how you’d hoped he felt.

There’s a feeling inside of you, as if you’re right on the edge of catharsis, as if you paint just one more thing, you’ll be able to let it all go. That’s your motivation for everything you’ve been making, just desperately searching for the release that will save you from the pain. At this point, you’re not sure it will ever come.

You’re working on a bigger canvas, the biggest you’ve used in years. You’re glad your current job allowed you to move into a bigger apartment, because you surely wouldn’t have been able to fit something like this in your old shoebox, packed so full of your things that you’d barely had space for an 11x14. You have to stand to reach the upper portion, swiping a brighter red over the dark red base. You don’t want it to be about him. It is anyway.

The show at the gallery is rapidly approaching, only a month away. You’ve been working with the curator to decide which pieces to use, filing through years of work. So far, everything that she’s found compelling has been about him. Things you’ve made recently, things you made years ago when things were still good. One day, you’ll get over this. But not today. Today still just hurts.

June, 2021

With neither of the boys making the playoffs, they’d come home earlier than usual this year. Sadly, Brady is pretty used to it by now, usually coming home around this time anyway. You’re used to getting a few weeks with Brady and Emma before Matthew comes home, but you don’t have that this year.

While Brady sulks for about two days when he gets home, Matthew is far more upset. The Flames had made the playoffs for the last couple years, and he was getting used to being a contender. So not even getting a chance at it this year clearly stung. He moped around for a week or two, face tight and arms crossed over his chest most of the time. The only time he let his arms down, let his guard down, is when the two of you were alone.

You’d comforted him through the couple weeks of upset, even staying the night a few times. It wasn’t intentional, you’d just stayed so late that you fell asleep, and Matthew didn’t have the heart to wake you. You have to get up early to get home for work, so you’d snuck your way out of the house before anyone else had woken. You’re not sure how Keith and Chantal would have felt about you staying the night in Matthew’s bed, but you know what they would have thought was going on, and you didn’t want to put yourself or Matthew in that position.

Once he’d relaxed, taken a deep breath and accepted defeat, he went back to being his regular happy, seemingly aloof self. You’re grateful for it, not a fan of seeing him upset and always wanting to help him through and cheer him up.

June had come kindly, bringing along more sun and nicer weather. You and Matthew had resumed your walks in the park, and the whole group of you spend about as much time outside as you do in the den. Things with Matthew had picked up where they left off in January, him pulling you into a secluded area any time he could get you alone, kissing you senseless. You’d missed the feeling of his lips, of his body pressed to yours.

Tonight is one of the more rare nights where Matthew comes to your apartment, instead of you going to his parents’ house. You’ve offered to make dinner and follow it up with movies. You’re already on the couch, your dirty dishes abandoned on the coffee table. You’re laying on your side, Matthew spooned up against your back, your knees hanging off of the couch with the way they’re bent to accommodate Matthew’s too-long legs. You’re warm and comfortable, enjoying the feeling of safety that he brings, something you’ve very rarely felt in your life before.

The movie is good, but you’ve found that being in Matthew’s arms makes you sleepy, so you’re having a hard time focusing. You manage to mostly follow it, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn when the credits start to roll.

You feel Matthew place a kiss on the back of your neck without comment. Then he’s moving you, rearranging your bodies carefully until you’re on your back, Matthew staring down at you from his position straddling your thigh. The way he’s looking at you is intense, somehow simultaneously fond and hungry. It wakes you up almost instantly, and you reach out to rest your hands on his thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly, reverently. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it feels different now. Maybe it’s the position you’re in, maybe the way he’s looking down at you as if he wants you, as if he–

He takes your hands in his own, bending down as he brings them up to cradle his cheeks. You run your thumbs across his high cheekbones, tilt his head up a little by the jaw as his eyes slide shut. You press your fingers into the soft spot behind his jaw, under his ears, pull him down, down, down.

Kissing him feels as easy as breathing. Guiding his head this way and that to get a better angle, pressing your lips together over and over, longer each time, deeper. Matthew has one hand on the arm of the couch to hold himself up, the other wrapped loosely around your wrist. He’s not trying to move you or take control, just holding on as if he needs something to ground him. You press your thumbs into the hollows of his cheeks, feeling the solid wall of his teeth under the skin. His mouth drops open and he lets out a soft sound. You press your thumbs in harder, between the new gap between his upper and lower teeth, testing how far you can push from the outside.

He squeezes your wrist once and you release the pressure. His mouth stays open, lips wet and shining. He opens his eyes halfway, as if his eyelids are too heavy to get all the way up, eyes hazy and unfocused.

Again, he squeezes your wrist. He’s suddenly standing, using his grip to guide you up as well. He immediately crowds up against you, as if being more than an inch away will kill him. His eyes have managed to refocus, but there’s still a dreamy look in them.

He takes a step backward, using the hand that had instinctively gone to the back of your neck to bring you with him. He kisses you, lingering. He takes another step back, gives you another kiss. He rounds the end of the couch and you realize where he’s leading you, kind of impressed that he can find his way to the bedroom without even looking.

Of course, your heart is a frantic mouse scurrying around your chest, thumping hard like you’re a prey animal facing down a predator. But as much as it freaks out in the cage of your chest, there’s no panic in your head. Being with Matthew calms your mind, keeps your hands from trembling, feels so right that you can’t find a reason for the anxiety that used to plague you around him.

He stops you halfway between the door and the bed, pulling back a couple inches to stare down at you. You’re hesitant to put a name to the look on his face, not sure if reverent is being dramatic.

You flatten your palms against the front of his shoulders, shoving him gently, bullying him toward the bed. He allows it for a moment, but stops after a few steps. He takes your hands in his own, brings them to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. You try to swallow down the desire that grows inside of you, threatening to spill out. He holds your hands close to his face, enough that you can feel his lips move when he speaks.

“You don’t have to be in control, sweet girl,” he says, lays another kiss on the bump of your right middle finger, looks deep into your eyes with such adoration you feel ready to split at the seams.

“Let me take care of you,” he says. The part of you that’s spent your entire life with a fist clenched desperately around any sense of control that it could find, for the first time, relinquishes its hold. And Matthew does, indeed, take care of you.

February, 2022

It’s your first time in Vegas, and the atmosphere is electric. There are hockey fans everywhere, plenty of people wearing jerseys as they explore the strip. Everything is so big, so bright, so fancy. As exciting as it is to be here, it makes you feel a little off, a little like you don’t belong. It reminds you of the first time you’d been to the Tkachuks’ house, amazed at how different everything is from the way you grew up.

Each player was supposed to be allotted two tickets, but they had allowed Brady to take additional tickets for his family, considering Matthew is his brother, in addition to how well-known and beloved Keith is. He’d managed to get Emma included as well, luckily.

You weren’t sure how he did it, but Brady had gotten another player to give one of his tickets so that you could come. Apparently the guy’s family couldn’t make the trip, and he only had one friend that he really wanted to bring. He won’t tell you who it was, but the way that Timo Meier winks at you as he passes the stands gives you an idea. You weren’t aware that the two talked, but there’s always the possibility that he had just gone around and asked everyone. The idea makes something bloom in your chest, as if you could love Brady more than you already do. You’ll have to find a way to thank Timo some time.

The skills competitions are fun, though Brady doesn’t win anything. It’s nice to see the players relaxing and having fun, a well-deserved break from the stress of the season.

You all go out to an early meal before the games the next day. You don’t realize until you arrive that Jack Hughes and his family were joining you, and you trip over your own feet when you see them waiting for you. You’re a huge fan of Jack’s, but more than that, Ellen Weinberg-Hughes is an icon. You stumble with your words when you greet her, shaking her hand and screaming silently in your head. With how the boys are looking at you as you do so, they obviously anticipated your reaction and are incredibly satisfied with themselves.

For the meal, you’re sat between Matthew and Jack. You’re grateful that Matthew is next to you, needing his calming presence as you meet some of your favorite players. The families are friendly with each other, the parents catching up on the news of each others’ lives, the children doing the same in separate conversations.

You spend most of the dinner talking to Jack, Quinn, and Matthew. They tell you all sorts of things, including embarrassing stories about Matthew that you weren’t privy to. You grin at Matthew every time they share one, absolutely intending to tease him about it later. This seems to be what the Hughes boys want, eager to give you more ammunition. Matthew buries his face in his hands at one particularly humiliating story, even as he shakes gently with quiet laughter. When he emerges and sits back up, you take a chance, placing your hand on his thigh. You squeeze once, trying to reassure him. He does his best to not react, but he also rests his hand on top of yours under the table.

“So you’re a painter, right?” Quinn asks at one point, curiosity evident in his perpetually sleepy eyes.

“Yeah,” you confirm, asking “How did you know?” You’d told them about your official job, but you hadn’t mentioned being a traditional artist in addition to a graphic designer. Jack turns a smug smile on you.

“Matthew talks about you a lot,” he says, pleased with himself. You look to Matthew just in time to see his face flush.

“Shut up,” he says to Jack, which only makes him smile wider. Jack’s attitude rubs off on you a little, and you give Matthew a delighted smile.

“How much is a lot?” you ask Jack, feeling Matthew dig his fingertips into your knuckles.

“Like, a lot,” Jack replies, Quinn nodding from his other side. You look back to Matthew, who looks like he wants to crawl under the table and hide.

“I talk about him a lot, too,” you say. That makes Matthew look at you again, bright eyes nearly sparkling in the restaurant’s dim lighting. His expression shifts, a small, grateful smile scrunching his eyes up the slightest bit.

After dinner, you all make your way to the arena. Brady and Jack left a while before the rest of you, needing to arrive in time to get dressed and likely do some more media. Before he’d left, Jack had requested your phone, creating a contact for himself and inputting his number. As he dud, you turned your face away, toward Matthew, opening your mouth wide as if you’re screaming. He looked amused at it, but there’s a sharp edge there. Quinn took the phone next, doing the same thing. You squeezed Matthew’s thigh again, and his expression softened. You’ve been following the Hughes brothers since they were in Juniors, and having them like you enough to want to keep in touch– you can only describe the feeling as elation.

The lines are out the door at the arena, and a few people catch the boys to request photos before you can get to the special entrance for players’ guests. They’re all very kind and courteous about it, taking a few pictures with people, finding a way to move through the crowd even as they do so. You probably should have come a different way, or maybe gotten there earlier, but as long as the boys don’t mind, you don’t either.

The seats are good, the second row of the first balcony. It seems to be the section that they put all of the family and friends, people milling around and chatting with each other. You spot Johnny’s parents a couple rows away, the only people around that you’ve met before. You wave to them and they return the gesture. They make their way down to your seats, greeting each of you in turn. They start chatting with Keith and Chantal, so you continue talking to Taryn and Emma.

The games are great, surprisingly fast. The Atlantic division plays a great game again Central, despite losing by 3. You still can’t help being proud of Brady. You’ve been next to him since his first season, and you’ve loved getting to watch him grow and improve. As long as he’s in the world, you’re going to be proud of him.

The final is awesome too, and you jump up to cheer when Jack scores in the first. When the Metropolitan wins, you high-five Taryn, glad that Jack could win when Brady couldn’t. Not a bad consolation prize.

The group hangs around for a while after, and you get to meet a bunch of new people. Everyone is so nice, making you feel welcome, feel like you belong. When you finally start up the stairs to leave, Johnny’s mom Jane stops you for a second. She pinches your jersey and gives you a sly smile.

“Just a family friend?” she asks, not a question but a suggestion. A few years back, Matthew had given you one of his jerseys to wear to a game, and you’ve worn it tonight, despite him not playing. You realize now how it could be interpreted, ducking your head for a second to smile at the floor, before looking back up to Jane.

“Just a family friend,” you say, firm and definitive. She holds your gaze for a moment, looks behind her at Matthew, who’s waiting patiently a few steps up. He’s looking at you, that soft look he gives you sometimes. After a second, he smiles brightly at Jane. She waves and turns back to you.

“We’ll see,” she says. She pats your shoulder twice before making her own way up the stairs with Guy. Once you process the statement, you shake your head and make your way up to Matthew.

“What was that?” he asks as you enter the corridor. There’s no way you can tell him the truth, and honestly, you’re not sure what the fuck that was either. You just shrug at him, continuing your way out of the arena.

The comment sticks with you, no matter how you try to brush it off. Johnny is Matthew’s best friend, and you’ve met Jane a few times before. If it had been a stranger, you would’ve dismissed it outright. But to hear it from someone who actually knows the two of you? That’s harder to let go.

July, 2023

Laurel, the curator for the gallery hosting your show, is a lovely woman. She’s also very, very good at her job. You’ve been to countless shows at this gallery, and they’re always perfectly compiled, excellently arranged. You’ve brought her your most recent paintings today, which makes you glad that you have a car, because hauling them through the city would be a nightmare.

The only problem you have with Laurel is that she seems to see straight through you. You’re not used to someone looking past the professional figure you present, let alone someone seeing every part of you that you put into your art.

She’s staring at your offerings, examining every last detail. She’s already chosen about half of the pieces that will be displayed, creating a theme with your relatively impressionist style. She moves one canvas to the side, away from the others. She takes an extra few minutes to consider one of them, the largest one. It just finished drying yesterday. Having to see it every day as you passed it in the living room has been torture.

“Everything except that one,” she says, gesturing to the one she’d set aside. If she wants all of these, that’s likely going to be everything for the show. With everything else she’s chosen, this is all they have the wall space for, considering the way that you’ve seen Laurel arrange the art in previous shows you’d attended.

“That one is the centerpiece,” she adds, hand against her cheek as she continues staring at the large canvas. You swallow hard. Of course. Of course every painting she likes is about him. Of course the centerpiece will be him. No matter what you do, you’ll never escape him.

She asks a bit about your inspiration and motivation for the piece, and you give her vague answers that sound more philosophical than the real thing. The two of you discuss some of the minutiae of the show, trying to get everything finalized ahead of time. There’s less than a month left, and your excitement is starting to pair itself with dread.

When you get home, you go straight to your bedroom and throw yourself face first onto your mattress. You bury your face in a pillow, finally letting out the scream that’s been stuck in your throat since you learned of Tessa’s existence. It helps.

You make and have dinner, barely aware of what you’re eating. At least you can eat without getting nauseous now. You don’t feel like watching TV, probably wouldn’t be able to pay attention to a real show right now. Instead, you sit on your bed, leaning back against the headboard. You scroll social media mindlessly for a while, the ghost of Matthew next to you, his invisible arm pressed against yours.

February, 2022

Despite your better judgment, the first time you and Matthew had slept together wasn’t the last, either. It had continued through last summer, then again when he’d come to play the Blues. Now you’re in Calgary, in Matthew’s apartment for the first time, in his bed again.

A lot of people idolize the first time they sleep with someone, comparing every subsequent time to the first and often coming out disappointed. You had no reason to do so, because the sex only got better over time. As you and Matthew learned each other’s bodies, figured out what got the best reactions, the sex kept improving. Even if you wanted to fall back on your morals and resist him out of respect for Brady, you know you couldn’t stay away for long. It’s irresistible.

And it’s not just the sex. It’s the way he holds you after, lays on his back so that you can rest your head on his chest. It’s the way his breath ruffles your hair as you fall asleep together. It’s the things he says to you.

It’s the nights like this.

You’re in Matthew’s bedroom, the dark dead of night offering only the moon to light the room. Your head is on Matthew’s chest, his arm around you to keep you close, as if you would ever willingly leave. Your breathing had returned to normal a while ago, your body cooling off and beginning to recover from the rush of feeling. Matthew kisses the top of your head every so often, and you return the sentiment by tilting your head to lay kisses against his sternum.

“I wish I could keep you here forever,” he says, so hushed that you almost miss it. He’s always so quiet when he talks like this, as if he’s afraid to say it. He says these kinds of things anyway, but never above a whisper, not willing to share the vulnerability with anyone but you. Again, you press your lips into his skin.

“I wish I could stay here forever,” you reply. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To stay here, with him. No need to be quiet so as not to wake his family, no having to sneak out in the morning, no work to keep you away. Just laying here, together.

“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” he says. There’s desire in his voice, of course, but also earnesty, like he really means it. Part of you would like to believe that he does, but another part knows how important it is to not get caught up in the fantasy. It’s easier said than done.

“Not any of the other girls you’ve had?” you ask. You’d meant for it to come out teasing, but your honest curiosity wins out. Then there’s a hand on your chin, fingers gently guiding your head up until you’re looking Matthew in the eye. It’s not exactly comfortable to crane your neck like this, so you prop yourself up on one forearm, resting the other hand where your head had been as you stare down at him.

“Never,” he replies, insistent. He looks so serious, sounds so sincere. You don’t say anything, can’t think of anything. There’s something in the wide roundness of his eyes that speaks to you, pulls you in, encourages you to search deeper. It takes a second to figure out what it is that’s hiding in there, but… it’s fear.

“I never want this with anyone else,” he says, tangling his fingers with yours over his racing heart. There’s a question you want to ask, something you’ve been wanting to ask for a while, but the fear in him has mirrored itself within you. You should just shut up, keep it to yourself. The words come out before you can convince yourself to stay quiet.

“What is this?” you ask. You’re not sure what answer you’re expecting, but you know which one you’re hoping for. He takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and for the first time, you don’t divert your gaze to admire the sheen of them, unable to look away from his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he says, pauses, presses your entwined hands harder to his chest, “But I never want to give it up.”

May, 2022

Again, Matthew is the second to come home. Brady returned almost a month before in April, the Senators not in the playoffs, as usual. You feel bad sometimes, because Brady is genuinely a great player, but his team has just struggled to gel together. Even through all of their trials, Brady insists on keeping hope. He loves his teammates, and that’s what really matters to him.

Matthew, on the other hand, isn’t so great at dealing with failure. The Flames make it to the second round, which is an achievement all on its own. But after winning Game 1, they’d lost four in a row and been knocked out. It feels to Matthew almost like they got swept, he explains over the phone after the final loss.

When he gets home, he once again spends a week sulking. You mimic what you’d done last year, though staying the night is intentional this time. So long as you sneak out before anyone wakes up, you’ll be fine.

On the eighth day, you tell Matthew for the hundredth time how proud of him you are. He shoots you a bittersweet smile and says that he’s proud of himself too, and you know he’s bouncing back. It doesn’t help that he’s been debating for months whether to re-sign with the Flames, an agonizing choice for him. He loves his boys, but he’s not sure he belongs there anymore. You’ve assured him that you’ll support him no matter what decision he makes. Johnny hits free agency next month, and if he moves, you’re not sure that Matthew will have the motivation to stay.

The next couple of weeks go by the same way that they always do, with you spending as much time with the Tkachuks as possible. At least, you think you’re doing a good job of acting like everything is the same as years past. No one knows about you and Matthew, and it seems like he wants to keep it that way. You like having this little secret life with him, getting to have him all to yourself. You’re okay with the way it is, you convince yourself.

June came quickly, having begun only four days after he’d returned. The weather improves, you and Matthew once again resume your walks in the park. You play yard games and watch trash TV with Brady and Emma. You help Chantal cook dinners, help Keith clean up afterward. Everything is back to the summer standard.

The day had been nice, sunny and warm. The light had turned the leaves of the trees golden during your walk this afternoon. The sun is long gone now. Nighttime has become your favorite part of the day, the only time you get to indulge in whatever it is that you and Matthew have. The only time you get to touch his skin, to hear the low sounds he can’t help but make, to feel his warmth against you, inside you.

It’s been some time since you’d finished, but you can’t quite fall asleep. Matthew is spooned up against your back, face buried in the nape of your neck. You’re not sure if he’s asleep or not, too distracted to bother trying to figure it out. You’ve been thinking about it since your visit to Calgary. Any time Matthew called, or texted, or even crossed your mind, you thought of it. It made your heart leap into your throat, your breath catching as you choked on it.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing together, what you are. He didn’t give the response you’d been hoping for, but he didn’t outright deny it either. Sometimes you think it would have been better if he had, if he’d said that it was just sex. Then you could start working on moving on. You wouldn’t have to lie awake at night, wondering.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his groggy voice making you startle and snapping you out of your head. You take a deep breath, debating yourself for a couple seconds before you decide.

“Nothing,” you reply, patting his forearm where it’s snaked around your waist, “Go back to sleep.” He takes a quick, deep breath, the air rushing out over your skin. You’re helpless to resist when he starts moving you. If you did put up a fight, push back against his hands, you know he would stop. But you’re tired.

“What’s wrong?” he asks again once you’re flipped to face him. He looks tired too, the exhaustion of the season still lingering. The moonlight paints his face in silver. It makes his skin shine, almost glowing in the darkness.

“I’m afraid,” you say. You wish he hadn’t turned you around. It would be easier to speak it into the wall than it is to say to his face. You say it anyway, watching his brow furrow, admiring the way the silver light adds contrast to the wrinkles the expression creates.

“Of what?” he asks. You could make something up. Telling him that you’re afraid of monsters under the bed would be less embarrassing. You’ve never been very good at lying to him.

“The day you move on,” you whisper, invisible pressure on your throat making the words come out tight and unsteady. The surprise on his face surprises you in return. He’d refused to put words or labels to whatever this is, of course you would think that he’s going to leave eventually. You’d have to be an idiot to think that he means it when he says forever.

“I won’t,” he says, resolute. You can only manage a half-smile for him.

“You’re not the first man to say that,” you reply. He reaches up and cradles your cheek in his wide palm, warmth seeping into your skin.

“But I’m the first one to mean it,” he says. You close your eyes. They begin to prickle at the corners, but you refuse to cry about any of this. He’s so adamant, so steadfast in his insistence. You try to remind yourself of what this isn’t, what it will never be, but you’ve never trusted someone the way you trust him, and you can’t help believing him anyway.

August, 2023

You hadn’t anticipated this happening, let alone how hard it would be, but finally, finally it’s a little bit easier.

You’re not over Matthew, not by a long shot. It’s going to take months, years. It may never happen, who knows? As long as you can cope with it, can keep your friends around, that’s all that matters.

The first half of the day was spent with both boys and their girls. You didn’t have to curl up so tightly on your chair, didn’t have to force words out so they didn’t think anything was wrong. Conversation was relatively easy, topics changing and flowing naturally. You’d smiled, laughed, and a couple of times you actually meant it.

Matthew had apparently planned a date for Tessa and himself, so they excuse themselves in the late afternoon. Brady, Emma, and you stick around the den for a bit, continuing to talk. Eventually, Emma stands, stretching dramatically.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggests. You’ve spent too much time lately sitting at an easel or curled up in bed, and a walk sounds like a great idea.

You expect it this time when Brady takes the three of you to the same park. It’s easier when you’re not blindsided by it, and you have the lovely memory of the last time you were here with the two to focus on, instead of Matthew. You walk for a while, music playing softly from Emma’s phone, tucked in her back pocket. Once you’re deep into the wooded area of the park, she stops dead in her tracks. You follow suit, spinning around to shoot her an inquisitive look. She takes the two steps forward to close the space between you two, grabbing you by the shoulders and walking you backward. You stumble, trying to look behind yourself to keep from falling. She pushes until the backs of your knees hit a bench on the side of the pathway and you fall onto it. You gape up at her, befuddled by the behavior and the way her arms are crossed over her chest.

“What’s going on,” she demands, not a question. You furrow your brow, at a loss for words. You know what she’s talking about, and you know that she knows that you know. But why would she wait until the day that it starts to fade, the day that you can finally think of something else, to ask you about it?

“C’mon, Y/N,” Brady says, plopping down on the bench next to you, “We know something’s wrong.” You had accepted the possibility of this back in June, but you weren’t expecting it to take almost three months for it to happen.

Your first instinct is that you absolutely can’t tell them. You’ve been keeping this secret for years, and if Matthew has his way, you’ll keep it forever. If Matthew gets his way, you repeat in your head. That’s it, isn’t it? All this time, you’ve been so focused on what Matthew wants that you ignored your own wanting. What do you want?

You want to tell someone, to finally have this horrid pain out in the open instead of keeping it caged up around your heart. You want your best friend and his wife to hug you. You want them to understand.

“Matthew,” the name tumbles out, and you don’t want to stop it. Brady and Emma are still looking at you, waiting for anything you want to tell them. God, Brady is your goddamn best friend and you’d convinced yourself that you couldn’t tell him something? That there was anything on this earth that he would shun you for?

It all comes spilling out in a rush. Everything from the first time you’d met him. Hell, some information that isn’t strictly necessary, but they don’t interrupt you or complain, so you venture on. It takes long enough to recount that Emma sits on the metal armrest of the bench. Brady’s holding one of your hands in his lap, Emma taking the other to do the same.

You’d promised yourself more than once that you wouldn’t cry about this, but you don’t really care enough to stop yourself now. The tears come two-thirds of the way through, falling silently as you recount some of the things Matthew had told you, the things he’d promised you. You’re not outright sobbing, so you manage to power through the rest of the story. Your eyes are squeezed tightly shut by the end, like closing them will block out the memories.

It takes a couple of minutes for the tears to stop. The three of you let the silence hang as you wait for it, nothing but the leaves rustling in the trees, something scurrying in the bushes. When you can safely open your eyes to face the world again, you look over to Brady. He looks devastated.

You watch his evolving emotions morph the expression on his face, from heartbreak to anger and back again. The anger makes your heart skip a beat, suddenly afraid that maybe the whole “I slept with your brother” thing will be a problem after all.

“Do you want me to kick his ass?” he asks, startling a laugh out of you. You know he’s dead serious, too. Part of you thinks it might be cathartic to see Matthew get beat up by his little brother, but your soft heart doesn’t want anything bad to happen to him. After everything he’s done to you, you still don’t want him to have to feel even a fraction of the pain you do.

February, 2023

This year, the boys don’t have to bribe anyone else to get you to the All Star Game. Each of them is allotted two tickets as per usual, but Taryn is too busy with school to come. She’d aimed a satisfied smirk at Matthew through the camera of her phone, saying guess you’ll have to take that one along as her eyes darted slightly to the left, clearly looking at where you were on the screen.

Since your work is remote, you’ve brought along your laptop. You spend the morning of the skills competition working, still averse to using your PTO if it’s not completely necessary. The boys have to do media, so there’s no one around to bother or distract you. You kind of wish there were.

The special skills competitions are as fun this year as they were last. You especially love Sidney Crosby in the dunk tank, seemingly having the time of his life. You may not know him personally, only having met him once in passing, but after everything he’s been through, you think he deserves some carefree fun.

The sun has set by time you emerge from the arena after the regular skills competitions. The days are shorter at this time of year, even in Florida. It is warmer than St. Louis, though, which you’re grateful for.

Jack is in the competition again this year, so you meet up with the Weinberg-Hugheses again that night. You’ve gotten much closer with Jack and Quinn over the past year, building relationships on texts and calls and dinners when they play the Blues. Luke has tagged along this time, and you get on with him just as well as his brothers.

Matthew shoots Jack a look when he slings an arm around you on the way back to your hotels after dinner, but Jack just grins at him. You’re still not sure what that’s all about, but you’re just going to stay out of it.

The games the next day are fantastic. You’ve never gotten to watch both of your boys win at once, and you love it. When the Atlantic wins the whole thing, you cheer so loudly your voice cracks. Emma laughs at you, but you just laugh along with her.

You stick around for a bit after the game again, Keith and Chantal mingling while Emma shows you the decorations she’s planning for the wedding on her phone. After a while, someone taps you on the shoulder from behind. You turn your head, immediately recognizing Jane. Johnny had made it again this year with his new team, so it would make sense that she’s here too. You stand, reaching up to hug her in her elevated position.

“Matthew got you a new jersey?” she asks, referencing the All-Star jersey you’ve got on. You wish you could say that you bought it for yourself, but it had indeed been a gift from Matthew. It shouldn’t be embarrassing, so you act like it’s not, even though it is.

“Yeah, he’s a great friend,” you reply, shrugging, “He likes to take care of me.” The thing about Jane is that she’s not really a jerk. Sometimes the you-and-Matthew comments bother you, but she’s generally a very sweet woman.

“It’s good to have someone like that,” she says, smiling gently at you, “Matthew is a good boy.” Jane had been at enough Flames games for you to know her, and definitely enough for Matthew to become a pseudo-son to her. They don’t interact much anymore, save for when she pops up in the back of Johnny’s facetimes, but you know she still has a soft spot for him. You don’t blame her.

“He really is,” you agree, nodding. The two of you make some small talk, and you get some updates on Johnny’s new life on the Blue Jackets. You give her some updates on Matthew in return. After a bit, Guy shuffles up next to Jane, telling her that it’s time to go. She acknowledges him quickly, turning back to take one of your hands in her own.

“I know he takes care of you,” she says, patting the back of your hand with her second, “But you take care of that boy, too. Okay?” You just nod, smiling and bidding her goodbye. Her and Guy retreat up the steps and out of view. You’re not sure why she feels the need to say these things to you, and you’re not sure why you take them to heart.

You meet Matthew and Brady outside the player entrance, the boys immediately scooping up you and Emma, respectively. Matthew sweeps you off of your feet for a moment, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Once you’re free, you start to dip forward, realizing what you’re doing at the last second and changing track to make sure the kiss lands on his cheek.

He beams at you, and you’re absolutely certain that you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to make him smile.

April, 2023

The day Brady comes home is the best day of the year, you remind yourself for the thousandth time. You’re excited to see him, you are. The way your chest has felt rent open for days isn’t his fault in any way. You’re not going to make him pay for being the messenger.

Once you all get the couple home, you go upstairs with Brady and Emma to help them unpack. They don’t really need help, obviously, but it’s an excuse to spend time together. Brady talks a little about the season, but mostly focuses on his plans for the summer. He talks about wanting to go see G, maybe even take a trip out to visit Tim.

For the most part, you just fold clothes and listen. Eventually, they switch to the topic of the wedding, Emma showing you even more pictures. She’d asked you to be a bridesmaid forever ago, so you’ve already seen most of it, had even helped her pick half of it out, but you’re never going to squash her excitement.

Exhausted from their travel, the two make their way down to the den after everything is put away, collapsing onto the couch. You curl up in your chair, allowing the couple to choose what you watch. They pick something or another, nothing that you can pay attention to right now. Instead, you find yourself examining Brady, picking apart his features, finding all the things he shares with Matthew.

It’s the best day of the year, you remind yourself again. The light of the TV highlights Brady’s jawbone and your skin crawls.

August, 2023

The show is going exceptionally well, exceeding your expectations. The space is filled with strangers, friends, and even your brother and his family. There are critics and collectors, some that you’ve seen at other people’s shows, some that you don’t recognize. Everyone wants to talk to you, and you don’t get a spare moment to breathe for the first few hours.

When you do get a chance to exhale, the rich couple that had been occupying you finally walking away, you catch the color out of the corner of your eye. You’ve been all around the building all night, mingling and networking in equal measure. You hadn’t realized where you ended up until right this second. You turn to the piece, staring as if you’d never seen it before.

You don’t need to look over to see who steps up next to you a minute later.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Matthew says. It doesn’t feel like an accusation, though it is one. All you can do is sigh.

“What did you expect me to do?” you ask, not expecting an answer. You glance at his hands out of the corner of your eye, noticing the wine glass in one hand, water glass in the other. Without a word, Matthew holds the water out in your direction, still fixated on the painting. You take it, feeling odd that not only does Matthew know that you forget to drink enough water, but also that he’s still trying to take care of you.

“It’s me,” he says after a pause. You’re both facing the largest canvas, the centerpiece. Swirls of bright red spread across a crimson background, highlighted with orange, accented with a royal purple. There, in the center, are two comparatively small, even circles of icy blue.

“They’re all you. Or about you, at least,” you say, seeing no need to deny it any longer, “About us.” It’s obvious that Matthew hadn’t expected you to admit it outright, thrown off for a minute by the admission.

“Can we talk?” he asks as you take a sip of water.

“We’re talking right now,” you reply, feeling petty. It’s his turn to sigh. He sets his wine glass down on the nearest horizontal surface before returning to your side, facing you this time.

“Somewhere private,” he clarifies, pauses, “Please.” You may be mad at him, enraged, incensed, but you’ve never been able to deny him anything, and you still can’t, even now.

You shut the storage room door behind you, flicking on the light to chase away the darkness. Matthew has his hands shoved in his pockets, looking around as if there’s anything interesting in here. You cross your arms over your chest, waiting for him to nut up and look you in the face.

“Listen,” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck but still not looking at you, “I know I should have gone about this better.” You snort. No shit. The sound finally brings Matthew’s gaze to meet your own.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Matthew says, motioning with his raised hand, “I didn’t think you’d care that much.” You can feel how incredulous your expression is, and you don’t even try to hide it.

“In what world would I not be upset?” you respond, “After everything?” You can hear yourself, know you sound like a bitter, jealous old ex, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and looks away again. When he looks back, there’s an almost pleading look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, more sincerely than the first time, “You shouldn’t have had to find out from Brady.” You avert your gaze, working your jaw for a second before you raise your chin and square your shoulders.

“No,” you agree, “I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry I stopped talking to you,” he says, motioning helplessly with his hands, “You have to know how hard that was.” You shake your head, almost disgusted.

“Imagine how hard it was for me,” you reply. Your fingertips are digging into your own arm, fingernails biting into the skin. The fact that he would stand here and imply that this was a struggle for him– as if he expects you to offer sympathy– makes your stomach churn. The guilt in his expression makes you sickly satisfied.

“Listen,” he leads with that word again, as if he has any right to ask it of you, “I didn’t want to upset her. You know how some girls are.” You do know. And it’s still not an excuse.

“You didn’t tell her about me,” you say, anger and hurt straining your voice, “You said that I was just Brady’s best friend. You didn’t even tell her what we had.” You want to scream it at him, just want to scream in general. Maybe if you did, if you released your tight grip on control in a different way than you had with him, maybe it would make him understand.

“What did we have?” he asks. His voice is quiet, just as yours had been when you’d brought up the topic all those months ago.

“I don’t know,” you say, turning his own words back on him. It’s true, anyway. You’ve never known what any of this was. You’d only known what you wanted it to be, what you stupidly, fruitlessly hoped for.

“We never dated,” he replies, voice still low but seemingly not bothered by the uncertainty, “We never called it a relationship. You were never my girlfriend.” It’s a simple fact. It tears your heart out of your chest.

“Just because we didn’t name it doesn’t mean it was nothing,” you insist, squeezing your eyes shut for a second to push down the urge to cry before admitting, “I stopped dating.” He looks even guiltier at that, but it doesn’t soothe anything in you.

“I didn’t look at another man,” you continue, embarrassed and ashamed but unable to let him continue through life without knowing, “I didn’t even want to look at anyone else.” The shame makes the fiery anger burn brighter.

“I gave you three years of my fucking life,” you say, voice raising just enough to make Matthew flinch. You keep it reigned in enough that no one outside will hear, not interested in sharing this conversation with anyone else, especially not potential business contacts. The flames engulf your chest, lick up at your throat, threaten to consume you.

“I never asked you to do that,” Matthew replies, solemn. Your jaw drops, just half an inch, enough to part your lips as your breath hitches. He never asked. He never fucking–

“You–” you begin, breath catching in your throat as your eyes burn with tears you refuse to let escape, “Everything you said, everything you did, and you expected what? For me to just move on?” Your nails are digging so deeply into your biceps that you’re surprised they haven’t drawn blood. Matthew doesn’t respond right away, and you can’t tamp down the impulse to be petty.

“But I guess that’s what you did, huh?” you jab. Matthew shuts his eyes tightly, fists clenching like he wants to fight. It should be threatening, but you’ve always known that he would never dream of laying a finger on you in violence. But then again, you’d thought you knew a lot of things about him.

“Why do you care?” he asks, shoulders tense as he opens his eyes to stare you down, “You don’t even want me.” That shocks a laugh out of you, so completely ridiculous that you can’t help it.

“That’s the most fucked up part– I do want you,” you respond, simultaneously an answer and an admission. His brow furrows as he continues looking at you, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Did you seriously think I didn’t?” you ask, more of a demand, slightly offended because, “Do you think I said all those things for fun? For shits and giggles?” You can’t read his expression, don’t even bother trying. He can feel whatever he wants. That’s not your concern anymore. All you care about is the cold spreading through you, crawling up from the tips of your fingers, freezing your arms, creeping into your chest and beginning to extinguish your rage.

“I loved you, dickhead,” you continue, the words spilling out of you starting to sound pathetic, no matter how hard you’re trying to hold on to the anger, putting the last grasp of it into the words, “Stupid fucking idiot asshole, I loved you.” Matthew gapes at you, hands going lax at his sides. His jaw moves as if to say something, but nothing comes out.

“I loved you and you threw me away like garbage, and didn’t even have the balls to tell me yourself,” you force the sentence out, feeling like you’re choking on every syllable. Matthew’s breathing stutters. You’re expecting annoyance, irritation, maybe even shame or guilt. You’re not expecting his wide eyes, his eyebrows turned up in the middle, his slack jaw.

“You loved me?” he finally asks after a few agonizingly long seconds of silence. There’s something in his voice that you tell yourself you don’t care to analyze.

“Of course I did. How could I not?” you say, huffing as you look upwards, needing a momentary break from this staring contest, “The pathetic part, the part that makes me hate myself, is that I still do.” It’s physically painful to say, no matter that the hurt is psychosomatic. You’ve spent the last few minutes breaking open your ribcage, one bone at a time, revealing to him the space you’d made for him inside of yourself.

“You love me?” he asks, so dumbfounded that he’s repeating himself.

“Yes, Matthew,” you say, facing up to the dread inside of you, the one fact you’ve been struggling with the most since you’d found out the news.

“And I’m terrified. Because I’ve always loved you,” you pour out, barely able to hold yourself together as you meet his eyes, “And I’m afraid that I always will.” There’s not even space for half of a breath before Matthew speaks.

“Please do,” he says. His hands are open, palms facing your direction, as if pleading.

“What?” you ask.

“I didn’t know,” he says, and apparently he’s decided it’s his turn to reveal himself, “I was surprised that you wanted anything to do with me at all. But then you kissed me, and I spent the next three years waiting for you to leave.” The confusion comes over you so quickly that it almost masks the hurt.

“Why would I leave?” you ask. There’s been nothing subtle about your feelings. You’ve told him that he’s the only one you want, that you want to spend the rest of your life by his side, that he’ll always be the only one. How could he hear all of that and think that you would ever leave?

“Because you’re smart and kind and funny and hardworking–” he starts listing off.

“Tessa is all of those things too,” you cut him off. It doesn’t come out as resentful as you would’ve expected a sentence like that to. As you’ve told Terri, you really have nothing against Tessa. Besides, she really is everything he’s saying.

“But she’s not you,” his response comes immediately, emphatically, “I don’t want just anyone like that; I want you, and you happen to be that way.” You’re stunned into silence.

“It’s not the traits, it’s you,” he says, insistent, like he’s trying to convince you of your own worth, “And I kept waiting for you to find someone else, someone who wasn’t hotheaded and self-centered and–” He stops himself, swallowing so hard you can see his throat stutter under the thin skin of his neck.

“Someone better,” he finishes. The thing is that Matthew doesn’t have low self-esteem. He knows he’s a catch, and yet… And yet, he’s standing here, admitting that he’d still thought of you as being so far above him that you could never want him. And it’s not that there isn’t probably someone out there better than him–

“I never wanted someone better,” you tell him, voice almost a whisper. Growing up, you’d created this picture of the perfect man, told yourself that you’d find him one day, would never settle for less. Then you’d met Matthew, and he was nothing like that imaginary ideal. He was flawed; he was real. And you couldn’t help but love him for it.

“And I never wanted anyone else,” he replies, his own voice hushed to match yours, but no less certain, “I still don’t.” Three months ago, you would’ve given anything to hear that. But things are different now.

“I thought that if I went and found someone like you, someone close enough, that I could fall for them too,” he confesses, shame making his face tense, “I thought that if I stopped talking to you, if I kept my distance, that I could get over you.” A fraction of the anger buds in your chest at the idea.

“So you’re using Tessa,” you accuse, instantly offended on her behalf.

“No!” Matthew denies emphatically, pauses, shakes his head, “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” If he is using her, at least he seems ashamed about it. Something in his posture makes you think he isn’t, that he really thought he could love her.

“Look, she’s great. She’s amazing. She’s too good for me, too,” his shoulders have been hunched up to his ears, but they fall now, defeated, “She talks about that spark she felt when we met, the way she feels about me now, and I want, I really want to feel that way too. It would be easier if I could.” Believing this entire time that he truly loves her has been hell for you, but it’s still somehow worse to know that he doesn’t. That he did all of this, hurt you so deeply, for someone he doesn’t even love.

“As much as I’ve tried, I don’t. And I can’t,” he says, turning his gaze to the floor, “And if I’d ever thought that I had the slightest chance with you, I never would have dated her to begin with.” All these years, all those words, all the touches you’ve shared, and he’d still never taken you seriously. It’s not your fault, you know. But you realize now that for every time you’d indirectly confessed your feelings to him, he’d said the same things back. He’d returned every sentiment readily, easily. And as much as he’d apparently had the same idea as you, that the other could never love you back, you hadn’t seen it either. You’ve been just as ignorant of his feelings as he was of yours, just as deep in denial. And now there’s this rift between you, a deep chasm that keeps you apart, all for no reason.

“So, what now?” you ask. There’s nothing else to ask.

“What?” he seems genuinely confused.

“What now?” you repeat, too tired to be upset anymore, “You break her heart? Or do you keep pretending? Fake your way into a wife and kids and a house in the suburbs?” His confusion persists, tongue darting out to wet his lip the way it always does when he’s anxious.

“I thought–” he shakes his head the tiniest bit, as if he can’t believe what’s happening, “I mean, I love you. I want to be with you.” There’s a sadness sitting heavy in your chest, only getting deeper at his words.

“I love you too,” you say, tipping your head an inch to the right, perfectly aware of how melancholy your smile must be, “But you hurt me, and now you have to hurt her too. I thought you were better than this.” You’d thought the world of him. You don’t hate him now, could never force yourself to. But you are disappointed in how everything has played out.

“I thought you didn’t want better?” he says, not really a question. Your lips turn up another centimeter at that.

“Listen,” you say, turning the word back on him. You inhale deeply, exhale slowly. He stays quiet.

“The opportunity of a lifetime is on the other side of that door,” you gesture vaguely over your shoulder, then let your arms relax, your hands fall to your sides, “I don’t know what to do with any of–” you give another vague gesture, “--This.” The devastation is writ clear on his face, telegraphed by his posture, bared in the forefront of his miserably beautiful eyes.

“Out there?” you say, smile still in place, “I know exactly what I want. So I’m going to go get it.” you pause, take another deep breath, “And maybe you’ll be there tomorrow, and maybe you won’t.”

“I will,” he jumps in. You huff an almost-laugh.

“We can figure this all out later,” you say, sure a definite, “For now, I have to focus on the things that I’m sure of.” He nods, looks at the floor, raises his head and looks back at you.

“Did you used to be sure of me?” he asks, an uneven, shaky whisper.

“Yeah,” you say, your entire being feeling so heavy that you can barely hold yourself upright, “I used to be.”

September, 2023

While Brady had departed yesterday, Matthew doesn’t leave until tomorrow. It took some internal debate, but you’ve decided not to go along to drop him off at the airport. His family will think it’s weird if he doesn’t hug you, and you’re not sure if you can handle him touching you yet.

You’re curled up on the couch with a book, letting yourself get lost in the story. A knock comes on the door and you startle. You mark your page and stand, rounding the couch to open the door. When you do, Matthew is standing there.

“Hey,” he greets, giving you the same bittersweet smile you’ve become accustomed to over the past few weeks. You’d given him a key to your apartment right after you’d moved, but you appreciate him not using it right now. You welcome him in with a gesture of your hand, turning to lead the way. You get four steps away before he speaks.

“I broke up with Tessa,” he blurts out. He doesn’t seem happy about it, but he doesn’t seem particularly sad either.

“Why?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, “You’re that sure that I’ll take you back?” The anger comes and goes as it pleases, and it’s starting to sneak through the space between your ribs.

“No,” Matthew says, looking so unbearably fond of you, “I think you’ll tell me to get fucked.” Some days you want to.

“Then why did you break up with her?” you ask. Part of you has been wondering if, despite everything he’d said, he would stay with her. You’re not sure you would have been able to keep the conversation to yourself if he had, but you would have at least tried.

“Because none of this is fair to her,” he answers, shrugging, “She deserves someone who feels the same way about her that she does them. Someone who’s obsessed with her. She doesn’t deserve to be settled for.” You examine his expression, his stance, and realize that he’s truly being honest. He genuinely wants the best for her.

“How’d she take it?” you can’t help but ask. It makes him grin down at the floor for a moment.

“Honestly?” he asks when he raises his head, “Not great. Could have been worse, though.” As much as you love Matthew, you would have been proud of Tessa if she had slapped him.

“Probably should’ve been worse,” you reply. He grins again, tilting his head as he admires your face.

“Probably,” he agrees. For long moments, you both stand still, eyes locked.

“What now?” you ask, the same question as a couple weeks ago. He shrugs again, but he doesn’t seem as miserable or desperate as he had at the gallery.

“I don’t know,” he replies, that same phrase that you’re still trying to make peace with, “I know what I want. Same thing I’ve wanted this entire time. So I guess it’s up to you.” After three years of him encouraging you to give up control, to let go and follow his lead, he’s handing you the reigns now. However this ends or continues is completely your decision.

“You leave tomorrow,” you say, though you’re both viscerally aware of the fact.

“Yeah,” he gives you the crooked smile that had captured you the first time you’d met, “Don’t suppose you want to come with me? The winter weather’s nicer in Florida.” You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“If you’d asked me that last summer, I probably would’ve said yes,” you admit. You kind of expect him to react with sadness, but you prefer the hope that blooms on his face.

“Maybe I’ll ask you again next summer?” he suggests, offering you the option. At this point, you have no idea where your relationship will be at this time next year. You don’t know if you’ll even have a relationship, of any kind. But if he’s willing to try, so are you.

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling wider than you have in a long while, “Next summer.”

June, 2024

The Hughes brothers are a funny trio. Seeing Jack’s upbeat, outgoing energy bookended on each side by two reserved, perpetually exhausted brothers is always kind of funny. You’d run down the pavement from the Tkachuk’s door to the driveway when you’d seen Quinn climb out of the car’s driver seat, immediately sweeping him up in a hug. The boys had decided to road trip around this summer, so of course you’d strongly suggested that they visit you.

You help them haul their bags out of the trunk, taking Luke’s backpack in hand and insisting on carrying it in for him. The three of them had started teasing you the instant they saw that Matthew hadn’t come out with you.

“Come on, I heard him at the All Star game,” Jack pesters, voice taking a mocking edge as he croons, “Sweet girl.” You laugh brightly, stopping the careful steps you’re taking backwards up the pathway to the house.

“We weren’t dating, I swear,” you insist. Plenty of people over the years have accused you of dating Matthew, but at least he’s funny about it. He stops in front of you, lifting his chin and giving a shit-eating smile.

“Wait, weren’t?” he asks, “As in, past tense?” You feel heat begin to crawl up your face. You’d intended to tell them, of course, but not the second they got here.

“Yeah,” Matthew calls from behind you, and you twist around to watch him close the space between you, “Past tense.” Jack’s glee is overt, but you can see the little signs of happiness on the other two boys’ faces too. Matthew lines himself up against your back, wrapping his arms around you, the gaudy Cup ring on his finger glinting in the light.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss into your hair. You can’t see him, but Jack’s smug face makes you sure that Matthew is staring straight at him. “My sweet girl,” Matthew says. It might be the best thing you’ve ever heard.

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #the winter fic exchange 2k24 #RI #andi's coping mechanism

[impishjesters]

hiii! Could I just say that I absolutely love your writing and they way you describe jax? I love your writing style as well. So-

Could you write a jax x reader where the reader is very sensitive and prone to crying? Like they have a super loud and bold personality, kind of like jax, so you'd think a few mean words wouldn't affect them right? Wrong. They're actually super sensitive and can cry easily. Like maybe if jax were to get into a fight with reader and maybe takes it too far?

warnings(s): Jax, insults/name calling, nondescriptive arguments, angst (I tried to balance it out with some fluff in the second half) note(s): Jax is a noticeable ass in the first half of this, honestly Jax is his own warning A/N: I truthfully believe that his reaction would heavily depend on whether the two of you were just two people trapped here vs in a relationship of some sort. I don't want to post him being only an asshole, so I included his response/reactions if you were his s/o as well. (Also thank you for the kind words! 💜)

As two people trapped in the digital hellscape together

It doesn’t take you long to learn Jax’s disregard for the emotions of others. His blatant disregard for Gangle’s tears and Pomni’s little panic attacks that he only eggs on are proof enough.

Jax would’ve never suspected you to be sensitive given your loud and bold personality, he’s never noticed the subtle change in your posture or behavior when you get insultingly clumped in with the rest—or if he did notice, he never said anything.

A fight with Jax is a one-sided fight, he’ll throw some backhanded question about why you were suddenly being a crybaby, an unfunny joke about how you must’ve taken Gangle’s tragedy mask when he wasn’t looking.

“Look it’s not that big of a deal, I don’t know why you’re getting all bent out of shape.”

Jax is an ass through and through, he’s not trying to gaslight you into believing you’re crying over nothing, he genuinely believes you’re making a big deal out of nothing. It’s just words.

As his s/o

Again you are aware of just what kind of person Jax is—that said you are given some leniency to his awful behavior, unlike the others you have a special place in his chest cavity

As mentioned above he never really suspected you to be sensitive, though he can sort of piece two and two together when your behavior changes or if you just up and outright walk away.

Seeing your eyes water is definitely an indicator that what was said may have offended you in some manner.

Jax isn’t good with this sort of stuff, does he approach you and ask about it? Or does he just ignore it and let you come to him?

Ah, fuck…

It’s not that he doesn’t care that he upset you, but he’s just a tad confused about why you are suddenly upset.

The whole thing gets even messier when the two of you get into a fight. To him, this “fight” isn’t a big deal, when you mention that it’s something he said callously, he’s reminded of the times you walked away seemingly upset.

It takes him a few minutes to compose his thoughts and word himself carefully enough to avoid making the situation any worse, it’s one of the rare times you’ll get him to be more genuine and serious to work this out.

Afterward, he makes the effort to remember not to say or do certain things that particularly upset you. Though it’s tough, sometimes that shit just comes out with no filter, and whoops there he goes saying the thing he told himself he wasn’t going to say with you around.

None of it is ever directly aimed at you though, he can do that much at least.

On the occasion that something minor slips he’ll apologize later on, sigh, and give you a hug. Hugs don’t fix everything but they do get you to stop crying. (This is usually only during cases where you get choked up levels of sensitivity, like, a dog in a movie died and that’s a sad kind of sensitivity.)

On the topic of crying, Jax playfully (genuine) pokes fun at you when you cry over something minuscule. He’ll tease and ask if it’s a hobby crying over the little things—again not maliciously, if anything it’s kinda cute. (You are allowed to take a smack at him if his teasing is too much, he probably deserves it.)

#jax #jax x reader #tadc #tadc jax #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader

[queer-n-here]

Hey I was the one who asked for the Sigma and Atsushi fic ur fine 😭 but anyways Atsushi n Sigma who love bite you without realizing that theyre doing it and it leads to smth else 🤫

Hey, thanks for sending it again bro! I'm double posting today cuz I felt kinda guilty for making you send this twice (and also cuz I literally have nothing else to do so...)

I hope you like it, and I hope it's worth the double ask!

Contents: Atsushi bites you in instinct first thing in morning, so you fuck him. Sigma bites you mid-breakdown, so you calm him down then fuck him!

Warnings: Smut, top male reader, biting (reader receiving), marking (Atsushi), nipple play (Atsushi), dubcon (Atsushi), cnc (Atsushi), edging and over stim (both mentioned for Atsushi), comfort (Sigma), gentle sex (Sigma), praise kink (Sigma)

Nakajima Atsushi

I can imagine him biting you. He's a tiger bruhh.

Anyways, on a more serious note

Atsushi who bites you first thing in the morning when you wake up beside him, too sleepy to even processing what he's doing.

Atsushi whose eyes widen when he finally does process it, scrambling away from you and apologizing profusely.

Atsushi who keeps opening and closing drawers to find a medical kit; he drew blood from your shoulder. You have to grab both his hands to stop him from moving.

Atsushi who blushes and shakes his head when you ask him if he's into that.

But you'd be stupid if you listened to him.

So don't.

Push Atsushi onto the bed, rip his clothes to pieces as he struggles beneath you, arguing how it's so early in the morning, that even the sun's not up properly, you can't possibly-

Prove him wrong, show him that you can fuck him that early in the morning, pinning his arms down on either side of his head as you kiss and bite his nipples, making them swell and grow erect at the touch of your lips.

Take both Atsushi's wrists in one hand and spread his legs wide open with the other, his asshole already loose from last night's activities.

He's struggling under you now, but you know for a fact that that's just how he likes it, that perverted little cat. He wants to feel your control of him. He wants to feel helpless under your strong grip.

Slowly, Atsushi's arguments will turn into moans and cries of pleasure as you enter him, your dick swelling at the sight of him beneath you.

Fuck him, pound him till his mind breaks, till he looses all his shame and reason.

Fuck Atsushi till he forgets his denial about biting you, and his teeth clamp down on your shoulder for the second time that morning, making you hiss in pain and speed your thrusts up.

Bully his nipples and mark his collarbone, his pale skin turning red and purple under your insistent lips as he pants and huffs, his back arching under you.

Make Atsushi see stars, edge him till he's begging you for release, hips bucking into yours.

Or over stimulate him till he hasn't got a drop of cum left in his balls, till he's coming up with dry orgasms.

He's all yours to play with, so don't stop till he really can't go on.

When you're done, kiss his forehead and tell him how good he did.

Sigma

Sigma bites you in the middle of a breakdown, so despite the spark of heat that that sends down to your crotch, you don't react.

He's barely able to breathe, heaving and panting as more tears stream down his already wet face, his hands fisting in the material of your shirt as he tries to remain in control of his mind.

You talk to Sigma, your voice soothing as you murmur sweet nothings into his ear, praising him incessantly, stroking the back of his head as he presses his face into your chest.

You're worried that he will suffocate, and so you try to pull away, but he doesn't let you, muffling his sobs and sniffles in your shoulder and clinging on.

You let him, holding him close to you and rubbing circles into his back to try to get him to calm down. He needs to calm down, and you hold him till he does.

Once Sigma relaxes, the stream of tears finally coming to a halt, you wipe his face gently and kiss his forehead, asking him if he's alright. He nods slowly.

You let him collect his bearings, not wanting to make him uncomfortable in any way. It ends up being him who brings it up.

Sigma notices the bite mark on the side of your neck, wincing at the broken flesh.

"I'm sorry... I really didn't mean to."

He won't stop apologizing easily, so kiss him and slide your hand under his shirt, murmuring that you didn't mind, that he can do it again if he wants.

Flip Sigma over, make him lay on his stomach with his face pressed into a pillow and ass high up in the air. Enter him slowly, gentle as you can.

Kiss his shoulder blades, tell him how pretty he looks; that alone will have his wet hole fluttering around you beautifully.

Fuck Sigma, slow and gentle and just the way he likes it, his pants turning into loud moans as he tries to muffle them in the pillow, failing miserably when one particular thrust makes him arch his back and whine your name.

Hit his prostate again and again and again, each touch of your tip making his eyes blur up.

Be gentle, he likes it when you treat him like he's breakable; or be rough, he doesn't mind when you treat him like the cheap whore he is, either.

He's all yours to play with, so fuck him till you're both satisfied, till his beautiful hair is plastered to his forehead from fatigue, till his cheeks are all red and stained with tears, till his thighs are trembling with fatigue.

#dom male reader #top male reader #dom reader #sub bsd x you #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs #sub bungou stray dog x you #sub bungou stray dogs #sub bsd #sub atsushi #sub atsushi x you #sub sigma #sub sigma x you

[changbinsboiledegg]

Hi!! I love your writing and I was wondering if you could do skz reactions to another member walking in on them and their gf doing the dirty? 😅

lmao sure anon. Digital footprint go brrr (thank you for the request ily 🫶)

Fem! Reader X SKZ. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI.

Warnings: Smut, ofc. Kinda explicit?, Unprotected or protected seggs, I didn't specify, swearing, implied vaginal, edging, cum mentions???, Overstimulation, teasing. Am I forgetting any?

Note: I'm not very good with smut BUT this is just a reaction post. I can do better probably. Also, I included some humorous shit because I got nervous. lol. Hope y'all enjoy :)

MDNI!!! Also if smut makes you uncomfy, pls skip (obviously).

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Chan

“What’s wrong? Can’t handle it anymore, baby girl?” Chan teased, pinning you down against the bed as he snapped his hips into yours, eliciting a loud moan that became muffled when he moved a hand over your mouth.

You were almost on the ledge of release and he as well.

You almost didn’t notice the door opening in the midst of all of the pleasure between you two.

“Oh my god!”

You and Chan both ceased any form of intimacy and quickly scrambled to cover yourselves as Jeongin covered his eyes and turned around.

“Jesus, Jeongin! What do you want?!” Chan sounded frustrated at being interrupted.

“I heard a cry, I thought something was wrong!” Jeongin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Chan glanced at you, then back at Jeongin.

“Please, just… get out for a while…”

With that, Jeongin left without a second prompt.

Lee Know

Minho was teasing the entire time as you begged for him to just insert himself inside of you.

And he did. Slowly guiding himself into your wetness, thrusting once, and then pulling out. You whined, beginning to get frustrated. Minho smirked at this, rubbing the tip against your aching clit.

“Fucking hell! Just please—“

“Hey, Minho! Do you still have my—“ Jisung stopped, immediately going wide eyed and dropping his phone.

“I’m so sorry! I just— I didn’t see anything! Promise!” Jisung frantically apologized, leaving the room.

You exchanged an embarrassed glance with Minho, frozen in place before Jisung came in again, his hand over his eyes as he fumbled for his phone.

“Saw nothing! Just getting my phone!”

Changbin

You already came— twice. But Changbin had no mercy. He loved seeing you cum.

And he wanted to make you cum again.

“You can do it. I know you can.” Changbin gently spread your clenched thighs open again as they shook from your previous orgasm.

“Fuck, Changbin—“ You squirmed, gripping the bed sheets as he positioned himself over your entrance.

“Say the safe word and I will stop.” Changbin cooed, waiting for a response.

However, you didn’t say anything. You wanted to cum again. Right as he slid himself inside of you again, the door swung open.

“Oh.” It took Seungmin a few seconds to process what was going on. Seeing you quivering was enough to make him instantly leave the room, forgetting to shut the door in his embarrassment.

You looked at Changbin and said the safe word.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin was gentle every step of the way from the moment you started. He made sure not to grip your hips too tight or thrust too fast or hard unless you asked.

But you hadn’t asked, wanting it to be just as special as he did.

“You’re so pretty like this.” Hyunjin breathlessly complimented you, meaning every word he said. You stifled back a moan, knowing you needed to be quiet during this, especially since the other members were still there, lingering.

You squeezed your eyes shut, on the brink of orgasm but it was delayed and stopped when Hyunjin frantically got off and covered both of you up.

You almost took the blanket off before realizing Felix was standing in the doorway, hand covering his mouth.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, a bit irritated.

“You act like you’ve never seen two people have—“

“I’m leaving! I am leaving!” Felix cut him off, shutting the door behind him but accidentally slamming it in the process.

“Sorry!” His faint voice called back through the door.

Han

It was your first time with him, although it was a little awkward at first, the more you explored each others bodies, the more comfortable you got with each other.

“I love you.” Jisung whispered in your ear, guiding your hips as you rode him on the edge of the bed. You bit your lip to muffle the moans that left your mouth, feeling your legs shaking the longer you rode.

“I love you too.” You managed to gasp out. Jisung smiled breathlessly before pressing his lips against your neck, softly sucking on the skin between his lips.

You quietly whimpered and gasped, feeling yourself letting go.

“Seriously? Now? Come on!” Minho’s voice halted you to a stop as you widened your eyes, not wanting to look back at him.

“Privacy please!” Jisung stammered out, grabbing a pillow and attempted to cover your backside with it. Minho was already on his way out, pausing at the door.

“You better be using protection!” Then he left. You and Jisung were horrified for a few seconds before laughing off the embarrassment.

Felix

“I am all yours tonight.” Felix leaned back, watching you as you undressed yourself. You walked over to him, straddling him with a smirk.

“And I, am all yours.” You gently pushed him to where he was flat on his back. You leaned down to kiss him, slow at first, then each kiss after progressively became more and more desperate as you helped him undress as well.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” Felix mumbled, taking in a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to see you be the one to take control. You kissed his jaw and down to his neck as he worked his fingers around the clasp of your bra.

You helped him, momentarily pausing and tossing it to the floor beside the bed. Felix’ hands roamed your body, grasping and rubbing any part he could reach before rolling you on your back and spreading your legs apart.

You turned your head, seeing Hyunjin walking in. He didn’t seem to notice you and Felix until his eyes landed on your bra.

“Hyunjin?” You muttered, feeling the panic set in. Felix didn’t see him yet, being more focused on you.

“Hyunjin? What does he—”

Hyunjin gasped loudly and quickly rushed outside of the room, causing Felix’ head to snap in his direction.

“Oh my god!”

Seungmin

His hands roamed your chest, trailing down to your stomach and stopping on your thighs, rubbing his hands against them as his lips were pressed to your neck. Seungmin’s hands inched up towards the top of your thighs before maneuvering a hand between your legs, feeling the damp cloth.

“Already?” Seungmin teased, his breath was warm against your neck as you softly moaned, slightly bucking your hips against his hand.

Seungmin pulled his face back, glancing down, then into your eyes. “Wet and needy. Patience is a virtue, you know.”

You whined, throwing your head back. “I am needy! I need you now!”

You didn’t say anything in specific, but he knew what you meant. Seungmin smirked, pulling the cloth down your thighs, taking them off and exposing to him just how wet you were.

On instinct, you parted your legs and leaned back on your elbows as Seungmin placed his hand back where it was, only this time there wasn’t a barrier.

“More?”

“Seung—”

A scream erupted, coming from the doorway where a shocked Changbin stood. His scream was so loud that you scream as well, startled as you closed your legs together. Seungmin got up to block you, still dressed, unlike you.

“Changbin, what the hell?”

Changbin quickly turned around, mumbling to himself as he shut the door behind him.

I.N

Jeongin hovered over you, both of you still dressed, but just as needy for each other as you made out on the couch. Your lips messily clashed with his as his hand made it’s way up your shirt and towards your the hem of your bra.

Your hand moved down his chest and stopping on his stomach while your other hand gripped the back of his shoulder. He began to grind his hips against yours when you wrapped your legs around his waist.

The other members were outside and weren’t expected to be back inside for another hour. Jeongin wasn’t particularly worried about getting caught as long as he— and you, were quiet and quick.

You lifted his shirt to remove it. Jeongin removed his lips from yours momentarily and sat up, helping you remove it. He then did the same to you, removing your shirt and leaving you in your bra.

Right as he was about to press his lips against yours again, the sound of collective chattering interrupted you both and soon the whole group entered. No one was prepared for what they just saw.

You and Jeongin scrambled for your shirts, slipping them back on.

“Oh my god! That’s what the rooms are for!” Chan’s eyes were glued to the floor. In fact, none of the other members were actually looking at you and Jeongin.

They were as flushed as you were, only slightly less.

“On the couch too?” Minho sighed as Jeongin ran to his room, pulling you with him.

Before the door closed, you heard Hyunjin say, “Guess we have to get the couch cleaned again.”

Note 2: Does nobody know how to lock a door???? be so fucking fr now. LMAO

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids reactions #skz x reader #skz reactions #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Your Eyes Tell | Jeon Jungkook One Shot

Paring: f!reader x Jungkook (established relationship) Word Count: 4k~ Warnings: Angsttttttt and explicit/suggestive language (a little) a/n: This is kind of like a anti Valentine's Day thingy but it's literally so late and I'm posting it on Hobi's bday (in the US) Happy Hobi day tho 🥺💜 hope you guys enjoy the angst cuz the ending broke me 😭

Walking up to our apartment I knock on the door and instead of my normal lighthearted knocks I settle on the customary three. It was the beginning of the end for us...

I hear the soft patter of your feet walking to the door and when you open it instead of being met with your smile I'm left with an almost blank expression, telling me that you're trying to hold back all of those things we had left unsaid.

"Can I come in?" I ask tentatively, leaving you hesitant for a moment before letting out a deep sigh and opening it wide enough to let me in. "Would you like something to drink?" you ask on ceremony, leaving me awkward from being treated as a guest in the home we share together.

"Just water, thank you" I accept, knowing I'll need some as I feel all the moisture in my mouth disappear in anticipation for this uncomfortable conversation.

You bring me a glass of water before sitting down on the armchair that sits next to the couch I'm on, a strategic move to cut yourself off from me from the beginning. 

"So?" you ask expectantly, waiting for a clue as to why I'm here right now. "I wanted to apologize for, well everything that happened and everything that I did wrong that night" I start off and I hear you scoff at it, having taken my tentative tone for insincerity right off the bat.

"Can you please just, just let me say what I need to say and if you have nothing left to say to me then I'll go" I plead and you shift your weight a bit then sit motionless, wordlessly inviting me to continue.

"That whole night was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened. She wasn't supposed to be here" I say, bringing up the events of that night. The night that took away the one person I loved the most, that I love...

~~~~~~

The day before Valentine's Day started out just like any other day. Having my beautiful girlfriend sleeping peacefully next to me with the warm rays of sunlight shining down on us.

I luckily woke up before our alarm so I have a chance to be her not so rude awakening. I chose to turn on my side to face her body and pull her up against mine, her back now pressed against my chest making everything feel perfect.

"Jungkook?" she mumbles, still half asleep. "It's okay it's still early, I just wanted to hold you" I say, nuzzling my face into the crook of her neck. She hums in delight and rests her arm on top of the one I have wrapped around her waist and drifts back to sleep for those few extra minutes.

It started off just like any other day...

Our Valentine's Day plans were something that I had been planning for weeks and I wanted it to be just right. It would start off with an intimate night in on the night before Valentine's Day that would lead into a weekend get away in the mountains. Something we've always loved to do together. 

As I was putting the finishing touches on the dinner I had made I make sure everything else is set. I had spent the whole day cleaning the house, washing and putting away laundry, making dinner and creating a romantic atmosphere in our bedroom. 

Yes with the cheesy red rose petals and candles but I always knew you were a sucker for it anyway. 

Everything was perfect. Perfect up until the point when she showed up. 

I don't even know how she managed to find us but she did. My ex from years ago, always managing to pop up at the worst time, and she knows it. 

I look down at my watch before opening the door, confused when I hear a knock a lot earlier than I had suspected you would be here but my face falls once I see who it really is. 

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I question through my clenched teeth, grinding them as a way to prohibit me from blowing up on her. It never works anyway. I could scream, threaten and cuss her out but she would never get hurt by any of my words no matter how hard I threw them at her. 

"Nice to see you too Bunny" she says trying to take a peek over my shoulder. "She's not home is she?" she asks, clearly making sure I'm alone so she can toy with me in peace. "Doesn't matter because either way you're not welcome here" I spit out but before I even have a chance to react she's slipped under my arm and has made her way inside. 

"Oh you don't mean that" she says, taking off her ridiculously high heels and almost falling on her face while doing so. It's a pity she didn't fall, she probably would've been happy to have a reason to get another hideous nose job. 

"Yes I do now get the fuck out of my house" I raise my voice, hoping that it'll get her attention but alas my effort has been for naught. She wanders around the place and touches absolutely everything and even has the audacity to cringe at a picture of you and I and places the little frame face down on the mantle it sits on.

"How did you even find me?" I say as I watch you invade not only mine but your privacy but I know I need to reason with her before push comes to shove and I have to call the cops on her...again. 

"I have my ways" she says, walking up to the table where I have our favorite bottle of wine with two glasses and she expertly opens the bottle before I can stop her and takes the liberty of pouring herself a glass. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I question as she takes a big gulp and fills her glass up again after she's decided it's to her liking. "Setting up for Valentine's Day? Isn't it a little too early?" she questions, ignoring me and knocking over the little bear I got you making me clench my hands into fists. 

"Not that it's any of your business but we're leaving for the weekend so this is all an early surprise for her" I say, crossing my arms as I continue to restrain myself from picking her up and throwing her out myself. "Oh wow, she's a lucky girl. Where are you two going?" she questions as if I would ever tell her. 

"I bet you're taking her up to your parent's cabin huh? The one we used to go to" she prods, hitting it right on the money and me giving up the answer with a clench of my jaw. "You're so predictable Bunny. A creature of habit one might say" she says while dragging her hand along my still crossed arms and making her way down the hall and into our bedroom. 

"Oh how adorable, looks like you put a lot of work into this didn't you?" she says while picking up one of the intact roses on the center of the bed. "Don't touch anything" I say, following after her but my words have no effect as she picks up the lighter and starts lighting the candles. 

"Don't!" I order and at that she places the lighter down but presses play on the speaker, our playlist already pulled up to set the mood. "Remember when you used to do stuff like this for me? We used to be so happy together" she says as she stalks over to me, feigning innocence as if she wasn't the reason we broke up.

"You were happy spending my money and I was stupid enough to think that you might've loved me too" I say through gritted teeth, my mouth sore from the constant state it's been in since she got here. "I did love you Bunny, I still love you. Why else would still I be here?" she asks while batting her ridiculously big eyelashes at me. 

"Because you're fucking materialistic and you keep on trying to get me to take you back so you can drain my bank account like you did last time" I say, cocking a brow at her. "That's not the only reason. I really miss your cock too" she says, somehow having gotten close enough to palm me through my slacks.

I push her off immediately, feeling disgusted and violated but before I'm able to think straight again she's grabbed a hold of my dress shirt and 'loses her balance' pulling me down onto the bed on top of her. 

"Sorry Bunny" she says as if she's was a child apologizing with the biggest puppy dog eyes that I've grown to hate. The ones that scream 'Can I borrow your credit card or fuck me please' among her other stupid phases she used to use on me.

"Get the fuck off of me" I say trying to push off of the bed but she pulls me back on top of her, making me actually lose my balance. As soon as she notices the sound of your keys jingling at the front door she grips onto my neck and smashes her lips against mine, not leaving me any room for protest. 

"Jungkook, where are you?" you call out, unsuspecting and walking in our apartment and seeing the effort I had gone through on the surface but having our intimate space violated by the person I hate the most in this world. 

"Baby what's all thi-" you say through a smile but are caught off guard by seeing what I know is me struggling to get off of my ex and with her pulling me back down. Although I'm sure you see it as the rudest awakening ever. 

"What the fuck?" you say in a monotone and it's only then that she let's me go. "Baby this isn't what yo-" "Oh y/n, hi. Um this is awkward. You said she wasn't going to be home until later" my ex directs at me while getting up and straightening out her clothes and hair, disgusting me at the knowledge that I contributed to her state against my will. 

"What the fuck is going on here?" You say in a stronger tone and at that my ex scurries out, avoiding any backlash from you. "Bye Bunny" she chimes before she closes the door behind her. 

"Baby please let me explain I-" "What the hell was she doing here?" you say through gritted teeth, a habit I'm just now realizing you have picked up from me. "I don't know. She showed up here and barged in and started touching everything and-" "Well why did you let her in? How did you both end up in here?" you ask as you take a good look around the bedroom.

"She came back here before I could stop her. I tried to tell her to leave but she wouldn't listen" I say, trying to plead my case but I know it's a weak defense. "Why are there candles lit? Why is our playlist playing? Why is there a glass of wine and roses in here? Jungkook what the fuck is going on?" you list off making me realize how the cards are stacked against me. 

"Please just let me explain okay? Let's just go back out there and talk over dinner" I say trying to usher her out of the room. "Don't. Touch. Me." you say, emphasizing each word before stalking out of the room with me following behind you and running my fingers through my once styled and now messy hair thanks to my fucking ex.

I find you moments later sitting on the couch and doing the same as me, running your fingers through your hair and see again it's a habit we seem to share.

"Talk" you say coldly and I sit down on the armchair while you sit on the couch. "Can't we talk over dinner? I ma-" "I'm not hungry. So talk or I'm leaving" you say and that's enough to get me to shut down that idea.

"I already told you she barged in here and started touching everything and nothing that I did could stop her" I say because that's exactly what happened but I can tell that's not gonna work for you.

"Why were you on the bed kissing her? What was up with the candles and the music?" you say pressing for more answers that you certainly have a right to. 

"Again she was touching things and grabbed the lighter and lit the candles and pressed play on the speaker. It was all a blur and I couldn't really process it because next thing I know it she's coming onto me and she touched me, like she touched my dick and it caught me off guard and I shoved her off of me and she pulled me down onto the bed on top of her and I tried to get off of her right away but as soon as she heard you walking in the door she started kissing me" I list off in one breath, giving you as much information as I can so you know every little detail.

"I need to go" you say standing up and heading into our bedroom with me right on your heels. "Where are you going?" I panic, watching you as you throw some clothes in a bag. "Away" you say giving me little to no information. "Baby please let's work through this. I'm sorry I should've shut the door right in her face when I saw it was her" I admit. 

"Then why didn't you huh? You shouldn't have let her step foot in here. We moved so we could get away from that psycho and now she's back? No I can't do this right now I need to go" you say, zipping up the bag and grabbing your purse and keys. 

"Y/n please don't leave" I say grabbing your wrist, my eyes turned down in fear of you seeing how broken I am at the thought of you leaving me. "Please, just stay with me" I plead in a hushed tone but I know no matter how much begging and pleading I do you've already made up your mind. 

"Goodbye Jungkook" you say, ripping your wrist out of my grasp, stuffing your feet in your shoes, opening the door and slamming it behind you, not giving a damn about the neighbors.

I walk over to the door you just went through, our front door. The one that we're supposed to come through and be happy together, not be rushing to leave each other. Pressing my head up against the wood with my right hand balled up into a fist again I bang on it a few times before letting a few tears fall. 

Angry? Sad? Confused? Heartbroken? I don't know if any or all of them are the cause of these tears but I know that this is something that's going to be hard for us to come back from. 

I get a text the next morning, with me not having slept a wink I jump at the notification and rush to open it when I see that it's you. 

'I need you to pack up some stuff and leave for a few days. I need the house and I need a place to think. We can talk about this later. Please just give me some space'  is the short and simple text I get from you and an immediate pit settles in my stomach that I know won't go away until we talk this through. 

I respond with a simple 'Okay'  and take some time to pack a bag and text a friend to see if I can stay. Luckily they oblige and tell me I can stay as long as I want. 

However kind that offer might be I really hope I won't be needing to stay that long.

~~~~~~

A day turns into days and days turn into weeks until I finally get fed up and head over to our place. Well...hopefully still our place. 

That's how we've ended up here...

"Jungkook this is exactly what you told me the last time" you say, pinching the bridge of your nose, a habit you seemed to have developed recently. "There's really nothing more to tell. I would never do anything to hurt you y/n..." I say trailing off and trying to reach for your hand but you pull away before I can even reach you so I sit back into my seat and keep my distance. 

"Letting her in hurt me. Letting her come in and drink our favorite wine out of our wine glasses hurt me. Having her put our pictures face down all over the house hurt me. Having her fucking smell all over our sheets hurt me. Seeing her fucking lipstick stain that I had to scrub out of them hurt me. Seeing her in our fucking bed with you on top of her ripped my heart to shreds. The fact that you couldn't stop her from doing any of these things broke me" you list off and I know that I did let her do all of that. I didn't want her to, but I let it happen anyway. 

"I would've stopped her but-" "But what? You couldn't because you're scared of her? Or is it because you're still in love with her?" you throw at me and that's the last straw. "You know I don't why the fuck would I ever love someone like her?" I raise my voice not even believing you could possibly think that I still love her. 

"You don't have a backbone when it comes to her and you know it! You let her walk all over you during your relationship and you're letting her fucking ruin ours. No matter what we do we're never going to get rid of her" you say, standing up to make yourself seem bigger and I stand up as well, not for the same purpose but in hopes to get closer to you. 

"We can figure this out" I say bringing my voice back down, knowing that a louder voice won't fix anything or make you hear me out any better. "We've been trying to figure this out for the last three fucking years Jungkook. Three. We've moved twice just to get rid of her but she always finds us and she's never going to stop no matter how hard we try. I'm sorry but I can't keep doing this" You say walking into our bedroom to get away from me but I follow you just as I did before you left. 

"I know you don't mean that..." I trail off but the thing is is that I don't know, from the way you're acting now I can't tell and that scares me. 

"Really? You don't think I mean it? Fine. You can have the apartment because I'm moving out" you say and I widen my eyes and know for a fact that there's no way I can fix things right now. "Don't leave, you can have the place. I'll go" I say hurriedly and walk back to the living room to try and process things and you follow right behind me. 

"And take the chance that she'll keep coming around here just to see if she can get a glimpse of you? No way. Neither of you are going to know where I live unless I tell you myself. I'm done. We're done" you say motioning between the two of us. 

"There's nothing I can do to fix this is there?" I ask with my head hung low and although I know the answer I still torture myself with hearing the words from your lips. 

I look up when I don't get an answer right away and that somehow gives me hope, thinking that you're taking time to think it over but I'm met with that same blank stare that I was greeted with at the door. This time with no words left unsaid. 

"No, there's not" and even without those three words uttered from your lips...

Your eyes tell me everything I need to know.

Your eyes, the ones that I used to get lost in. Your eyes that would shine when I made you laugh. Your eyes that would cry at the smallest of things. Your eyes, the ones that used to tell me that you would love me forever are void of any emotion. All the love and all the joy gone, even less than a distant memory and I can't bring myself to look at them anymore. 

I turn away to hide my eyes. To hide how much my heart is breaking because showing you my tears will do no good. My eyes that still shine when I lay my eyes on you. My eyes that are still fascinated by every move you make. 

My eyes that are screaming out how much I love you and begging you to love me too.

I hear noises behind me telling me you're gathering your things up and I wipe away the tears that had started to fall when I hear the bedroom door close and your footsteps make their way down the hall. 

"I'll send someone over to grab the rest of my things later" you say while taking inventory of the room around us, making sure you have everything for the time being. "I'll text you when they're gonna come over so if you could help them out by gathering some of it up beforehand I would appreciate it" you request.

"Yes, of course. Anything you need" I say in agreement, wanting to help you although my heart is screaming at me to get down on my knees and beg you to take me back. I save both of us the drama of that whole scene because I know your mind is made up and again, no one can convince you to change it once you're at that point. 

You walk over to me and place your hand on my neck to pull my face down like you had time and time again when you kissed me and I know that however much I want to melt into it and pretend like everything was just a bad dream I know that this kiss is full of sorrow.

This is probably the cruelest thing you could've ever done to me but I deepen the kiss regardless and pull you in by your waist, holding you as tight as I can because I know that this will be the last time yet somehow hoping that with this one kiss I could convince you to stay. Before it can lead to something else you break the kiss and lean your forehead against mine, our breath intermingling and keeping us lost in each other one last time. 

"Goodbye Jungkook" are your final words to me before you place your hands on my arms in a silent plea to release you and although it breaks me I do as you wish. I know this moment will haunt me and I know I will hate myself for not saying anything back but I can't bring myself to respond. 

I let my head hang and the last thing I'm left with is the sound of you placing your keys on the table before you walk out the door. Closing the chapter that I thought was going to last forever. 

Walking over and slumping down onto the couch I pull out the thing that I had forgotten was in my back pocket, no doubt having damaged the box a bit and I toss it onto the coffee table, a reminder of the question I never got to ask you...

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[alreadyblondenow]

▸ Assassin Jaehyun x Assassin Female reader ▸ Smut, Smut, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Gore, MATURE ▸ JAEHYUN SMUT SERIES: FUCK, MARRY, KILL ▸ VOLUME I: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

THIS IS PART 3. THIS IS PART 3. THIS IS PART 3.

VOLUME I: PART 2 WORD COUNT: 10,748k

Warnings: THIS FIC IS FICTION ONLY, Smut, smut, smut, MATURE THEMES, Heavy description of killings because most of the characters are assassins, mentions of blood, character death, A LOT OF NCT MEMBERS WILL D WORD IN THIS FIC, unprotected sex, mentions of condoms, mentions of pill, pregnancy, swearing, mentions of alcohol. Mentions of being an orphan, Not everything is proofread, apologies again. Kidnapping, burning of possession, I hope I did not forget anything.

A/N: I will cut VOLUME I into three parts, PART I AND PART II is posted already. Thank you to my readers!!! Im sorry if it took me so long to post a usual. VOLUME 2 will be posted HOPEFULLY BY THE END OF FEBRUARY :( please understand that I want to support Taeyong's second solo album first.

When Jaehyun needed to let go of your hand and allow the doctors to do their job, everything became silent and he never felt so weak like this before. It was not too long when the others came but Jaehyun already lost himself and kept thinking who did this to you. There’s only one man in his mind though, Kun. 

By the time you were stable and safe from death, Jaehyun couldn’t let go of your hand, even while he was sleeping. But days passed by slowly, and your condition wasn't getting any better, this is where he started feeling angry again, frustrated because he couldn't do anything to wake you up. He didn’t have any choice but to go back to where he’s good at. Killing. 

“Save yourself from the trouble, let us handle this stay here with her, she’ll love it when she wakes up and you’re beside her” Yuta tried to persuade Jaehyun. 

“I’ll do this on my own. Keep her safe for me. When she wakes up… tell her I’ll be with her soon” Jaehyun says before kissing you goodbye, whispering sweet things beside your ear. 

“Please don’t leave me. I will be nothing without you” he says. 

During the days that he’s tracking Kun, Jaehyun promises to himself that from now on, he will be a boss while being an assassin himself, killing everyone that goes on his way, he is blinded by his anger and want for revenge. He will work harder to achieve piece in your lives even tho he needs to bring chaos first. 

When Jaehyun finally met Kun face to face, he did not know why finding and looking for him felt wrong, it was as if the clues that he had never pointed him to Kun’s direction but he kept on insisting on blaming Kun… because he really don’t know who to kill. 

“Do you know why the Phantoms are always ahead of you…. Because you’re stupid” Kun mocks Jaehyun. “I’ll tell you who wanted Y/n dead but I want something big in return”

“You can’t bring money on your deathbed Kun. Come on be creative, ask for something else” 

Kun just gave him a mocking smile. 

“So who wanted Y/n dead?” Jaehyun asked, pointing his gun toward Kun. 

“I think you can answer that question… actually, I think you know the answer already”

It was quiet for some time. Crazy how Kun’s words were true and Jaehyun was just denying the fact that… his father is the one who wanted you dead. He had a hunch already. But blood is still blood. Jaehyun couldn’t swallow that pill. 

“Imagine this Jaehyun… you and Y/n in a faraway place. Get married privately. Away from all the family drama. Build a home. Build a family. Isn’t that what you want? Well… according to Hendery that’s what Y/n wanted” 

Immediately Jaehyun’s world stopped. Kun already knew that he was about to get what he wanted in this life. It's not easy to have a deal with a Phantom, but for you, Jaehyun is willing to risk that.

“Just tell me if I should do the dirty work Jeong” Kun added.

By the time you gain continuousness and finally awake from your deep sleep, you look for Jaehyun beside you but it was Mark you saw first, followed by Yuta who just entered the room with a cup of noodles. Of course, you remember being food poisoned, coughing blood and staining Jaehyun’s clothes, you still remember the horrible memories before you closed your eyes that time. 

“I know you miss Jaehyun even when you’re sleeping— but he just got home from a mission alone… he will be here soon” Mark whispered. “He did it Y/n, he killed Kun. The last of the Phantoms” Yuta added. 

“How long was I sleeping?” You asked weakly. You can’t believe that Jaehyun was back to killing while you were out. He hasn’t gotten his hand dirty for years.

“Roughly 14 days-“

“He tracked and killed Kun in 14 days?” You let out a laugh. 

“Well, we almost lost you Y/n” Mark said and you can only imagine how Jaehyun felt. 

While waiting for Jaehyun to arrive, you fell asleep and dreamt of him kissing and snuggling you under the beautiful sunset, holding hands while enjoying the warmth of the sun, little did you know, Jaehyun was already beside you. Trying to gently wake you up. And by the time you opened your eyes, his lips found yours and you pulled him in for an embrace. He look tired, he got thin in a matter of days. 

“Let’s go far away from this place and live peacefully” he asked of you sweetly. “Do you like that?” His hands found yours, he was cold and shaking, oh how you wish it was warm and relaxed like how you dreamt of him. 

After being discharged from the hospital, he was focused on you. He even discharged you from the hospital himself and drove you home. A new house. Everything happened so fast, and you don’t know why Jaehyun is like this. He never left the house, he’s always by your side but he’s always on his toes, always on the phone, almost not sleeping. What’s happening? 

“Here, you feeling okay?” He handed you your medicine and a glass of water, watching you very carefully as you take everything. 

“Why are you watching me like a hawk Jae?” Your arms immediately wrapped around him. You’re still weak and he can see it. 

“I’m just doing my job” he smiles and kisses your forehead before he returns the embrace. He’s always by your side lately, you’re not complaining but you wish he could be honest and tell you everything. 

“Hmm. That’s my job. Protecting you Jeong Yoonoh” you teased him. He just laughed. 

“Do you know how painful it is to watch you sleep, and talk to you while you were unconscious? I never want that to happen again. I felt so hopeless. It’s like I was ready to die any minute”

Of course you know what he felt. You almost lost him too. “From now on… can you just let me… let me protect you. Let me take care of you. No questions asked?” He looked you in the eye and waited for your answer. 

You just nod. 

After a few weeks of staying in the new house, Jaehyun surprised you with a long vacation in Italy. You already knew that this trip was a secret to the world. A trip between you and Jaehyun only while Taeyong, Mark, and Yuta are on standby protecting you and Jaehyun. “I don’t like this princess treatment. What is going on?” You asked Taeyong sternly. But as per Jaehyun’s request, he did not tell you anything. 

Jaehyun was extremely quiet during the trip. Almost as if his mind is somewhere else but you couldn’t ask him. You feel like he’s somewhere else. 

It was dark when you two arrived at this secluded farm but you trusted Jaehyun’s words, “you’ll love this place” The house was simple. There’s grass everywhere, beautiful garden, all kinds of flowers and shrubs, and you can hear crickets around the place. The moon was shining brightly too. Nothing fancy, when you two walked in. Theres a nice living room, filled with unique furniture and nice trinkets. “Could be better if the family who lived here put up some family pictures,” you said. 

Jaehyun was quiet, but smiling. 

The kitchen was perfect you thought, you remember daydreaming about having your own kitchen like this. Big stove, an oven for baking, a wooden dining table for your future family… its perfect. 

“This place is breathtaking—“ you said as you enter the masters bedroom room and was quickly grabbed by the waist.

“Wait until the morning,” he smiled before kissing you lovingly. 

It was the first time ever again that you two shared a bed. You have no idea what’s keeping Jaehyun away from you but nonetheless, you understand. And since this is the first time you two shared the bed, you noticed that he wasn’t planning on sleeping. It’s either you feel him keep you closer to his body, you hear him text or call someone, and the next thing you know the sun is shining already and he’s making you breakfast. 

“Did you even sleep?” You asked him while he was busy cooking eggs. You hugged him from behind and greeted him ‘good morning’ 

“For an hour, yeah. I needed to take some calls so I couldn’t join you in your sleep. Dreamt about me?” He flirted and kissed you good morning. 

“Yeah. Dreamt about you sleeping beside me… only to find out you didn’t even rest properly” you chuckled and bravely asked, “what’s wrong? If work is so heavy that you couldn’t let go of your phone then why are we here?” 

“I thought you promised that you will never question the way I protect you?” He was smiling but little did he know… you’re already pissed. You couldn’t argue with him anymore because he was on his phone again answering yet another important call. 

For days Jaehyun couldn’t answer your question. He’s not helping you understand him… even though you’re more than willing to. 

It hurts to turn your back on him whenever he reaches out for you. It hurts that you avoid him in this beautiful place that was meant to be enjoyed together. At this point… you just want to go home and leave this beautiful place. 

So you told him. 

“I don’t want to fight. I’m too weak for that. I am forever grateful that you want to protect me but, this is suffocating Jae. You’re not even communicating—“ 

And then Jaehyun get on his knees and took your words away. 

He’s proposing… out of nowhere. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not perfect but I’m really trying to do things my own way. Can you be my wife? And you know… make a man out of me?” He chuckled and waited for your answer. Of course you said yes. You can feel his heartbeat, beating so fast while you hug him tight. 

“I’m working double time and looking for a suitable replacement for my place at the table so we could never leave this place anymore. That’s why” he added and put the ring on your finger. “Wow. You finally said ‘yes’” he teased you and kissed you before apologizing once again. 

Gone are the days that the house was dead silent. Now its full of laughter and sweet whispers, only between you and Jaehyun. 

He changed his ways immediately, making sure you understood what he was trying to do. Soon Jaehyun realized how much help you could been if only he told you a little bit sooner. 

As days go by you two enjoy the place together, you try so hard to make breakfast warmer and sweeter each day, spend the days like a normal couple would do, stroll around the small town and enjoy its uniqueness, swim in rivers and kiss during sunset, appreciate the quiet evening where you can only hear crickets singing while you two sat at the front porch. 

“Good morning,” he hugged you from behind in this cold morning. You were happy he’s back to his normal self and gave him kisses that are long overdue. Innocent kisses that are sweet but wet, you can tell by the way his tongue moves that he missed you too. The way his kisses are soft but you know he’s up to something even more. 

His hands were swift to remove your sleepwear until you’re naked beneath him as the morning sun hits you perfectly. You watch him remove his sweatpants and underwear and he was excited to go back to your lips again. He missed being on top of you, being able to see the woman that he loves like this again. 

“I’m sorry if being like a horny teenager this morning. I really missed you” he apologized and kissed you again, hands reaching both of your legs and spreading them wide while you check your slit with your right hand if you’re wet already and you’re ready for that cock of his. 

“Don’t apologize, you’re not a stranger” you whispered sweetly while you pump his cock and kiss his lips. He didn’t wait for another second to push in. He couldn’t wait anymore. 

He missed your warm walls. He missed your lips. He missed hearing your moans beside his ears he missed your touch. Your hands are around his neck. Never leaving his skin and continuously pulling him back closer to you whenever he tries to pull away for a different sex position. He let out a soft laugh, kissing the shell of your ear and making you weak. The way he fucks you this morning is soft, as if he’s really telling you he missed you. 

The way his cock goes in and out of your hole, slowly but deep. It was addicting. Then he flips you around, putting you on your stomach but never leaving your lips. He pushed in again while your legs are still closed, making your hole tighter to Jaehyun’s liking. This is how he wanted it. Tight and slow, but giving you hard thrust while hitting the right spot. “Fuck,” you said and catch your breath. You felt your high come down already but Jaehyun is still building his. What the fuck you thought with a smile. You feel his lips travel around your back, his strong arms wrapped around your body, touching, pinching and even smacking your skin oh so lightly it tickles you. 

“Marry me”

He suddenly said. 

“Marry me,” he repeated it while thrusting deep inside you. You tried looking back at him to see his eyes but he was quick to catch your lips and fuck you faster. He was near. 

He flips you again so he could see your eyes and beautiful face, still waiting for the sweet answer. Hopefully. He was working hard for it, as you can see.

Rubbing his hand on your hard nipples as he fucks you slow and deep. His lips never leave your lips, telling you how much he loves you. He reached for your hand and intertwined it with yours, “Marry me,” he asked again, this time looking at your eyes and left a kiss your lips which made you completely stunned… and all you did was nod your head with a smile as an answer. 

You saw how Jaehyun’s face lit up the moment you answered him. How he was genuinely happy. That you finally said ‘yes’.

He let go of your hand and put on your legs, spreading them wide while he pushes deeper. You watch Jaehyun moan on top of you, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed. He was really hard and you feel it stretch you every time he push right back in. 

Faster he fucks you, making your boobs bounce and making you moan so loud. By the time he reaches his high his thrust were harder than before almost hurting you with the impact. But the hurt was so good it’s addicting. 

He rested his head beside your ear, putting all of his weight on top of you. Oh you love it when he do this… 

“I love you. Thank you for saying ‘yes’ I will make you the happiest girl in the world-“ 

“You already did Jae,” 

He smiled and caged you with his strong arms. It was a good day. A good day to start a new life together. 

A good day to get married privately. 

“Don’t you think this is kinda rushed and impulsive?” You said as Jaehyun drags you to the nearby church and talk to the locals for your wedding. 

Well, he’s Jaehyun. If he wants to get married today, then a wedding is going to happen. 

“Don’t you want to get married soon?” He asked back. 

“I want to but—“ 

“Then today is perfect!” He smiled so big as he hands you your flowers and pick the nicest wedding rings for the two of you. You’ve never seen Jaehyun like this before… but what did you expect? He really wanted to marry you and today, nothings going to stop him from being happy. As you watch him wear his smile that you gave, you can’t help but think about how you couldn’t just kill his joy now. 

The wedding was special. Nothing fancy. Just a the two of you, a witness and your promises to each other. 

“We’ll have a proper wedding if you want. We can invite the others and it will be a big celebration” he says excitedly while kissing you softly, motioning you towards your shared room, not even bothering to open the lights even though the sun came down already. 

Jaehyun was gentle and it was clear what he wanted to do on your wedding night. He was doing everything he can, kissing every part of you, touching you on the right places and telling you the perfect words that make your heart skip a beat.

Nothing can make this day even more perfect. 

“Given that its our wedding night, and you’re basically my wife now…” Jaehyun started with a shy smile. You just laughed at him for struggling to tell you what he really wanted. “Can we talk about having kids?” he finally said it. 

You laughed at what he said and looked him in the eye, you trace his features. His handsome features that made you like him, but when his lips caught your hand and showered it with kisses. You remembered how his handsomeness was just a plus, a bonus, and that his attitude is what made you fall in love with him. 

“Of course we can. Half of me, half of you” you said with a smile. 

“I want daughters” Jaehyun excitedly said, “I will spoil them—“

“Just how you spoil your niece huh? got it” you teased him. 

“But seriously. We’ll play every night, I’ll be their knight in shining armor, I’ll protect them and I’ll make this world a better place for them” 

“Hmm. exactly how?”

“I have a few plans in my mind… you wont like it,” he said with a sweet voice and started kissing your neck. He was putting you in the mood again by kissing your boobs and sucking on your nipples. Of course you like the feeling and you immediately forgot what he was saying. All you did was agree in your weakest state while moaning his name. You told him you cant go again because you were still sensitive but of course Jaehyun has his own ways. 

The days you spend together in this house is even more beautiful, it was not long after Jaehyun told you that he bought this place already and that this is where you will build a family with him. He made it official when he put a framed picture of you and him at the top of the fireplace. It was a good start. Just the way you like it. 

“Hows everything back home?” You asked while he’s typing aggressively on his phone, he doesn’t look pleased. You stood up and try to take a look at his phone but he was quick to turn the screen off and give his attention to you. 

“It’s just work, Im having a hard time but there’s nothing I cant handle” he smiled and reached out for a kiss. “Let’s make dinner?” 

Over dinner you couldn’t help but ask him over and over again about the situation back home. Not to mention… you wanted to tell him that you’re happy and that you’re over the moon but you just cant help but think that everything felt so misplaced right now. You also feel like he’s hiding something from you. 

“I’m afraid I have to leave you here for a few days, I’ll come back as soon as I can. I have to take care of something” Jaehyun explains while he plays with your hand and look at your ring. 

“I’ll come with you. We don’t need to rush living like this… I too have loose ends to take care of. Let me go with you” 

Of course you see right through him. He was hiding something. 

By the time the two of you got back at the headquarters, everything went crashing down and took away your peace. You instantly wished that you hadn't left that place. Nonetheless… everything was meant to happen eventually in the first place. 

Jaehyun’s father had a heart attack and it completely changed everyone's lives. In a bad way. 

“Yoonoh I need you to come with me” Chanyeol said to Jaehyun, signaling him to get in the car. Jaehyun on the other hand, can’t and won’t let go of you because he knew damn well that he needs you and you’re his wife now… you should stay close to him. 

“This is strictly families only Jae, don’t make this harder than it already is” Chanyeol said as he stops you from getting inside the car with Jaehyun. 

This is not the perfect time to announce your marriage. And so as Jaehyun was about to say it, you stopped him and made him follow Chanyeol. “I’ll be here, just come home whenever you can” you said and let Chanyeol take him away from you. 

It all happened so quickly but days went by slowly. It was dark times for everyone even though the sun shines brightly everyday and lights up every color you see. Even though everyday seems to be a gift, but in this world you’re in its just another day for chaos and revenge.

“Jeong Yoonoh’s place as the new head of the family and the new boss cannot be moved or transferred to any candidate….” 

You listened to the lawyer as he recited every last will of Jaehyun’s father. 

This simply means that Jaehyun can’t leave this wretched world and live a quiet life with you.

Privately, Jaehyun made a call. 

A call to someone he thought he could trust with his plans in life. But it ended up giving him the biggest problem he ever faced. 

“The deal was kill him after you replace me. You just made everything complicated. The deal is off. You’re useless to me now. Prepare for your funeral. I will not stop until you’re with your friends” 

As soon as Jaehyun ended the call with Kun. He threw his burner phone and removed his necktie that seems to be so tight right now. He felt so caged at some point. He felt prisoned. 

Only to realize that he doesn’t need to feel this way anymore because… as ugly as it sounds… he’s the boss now and he can do everything. Kill anyone. And no one will stop him now. 

Of course he’s having these thoughts because he’s struggling to get to you. To be with you peacefully. His wife. 

He wanted to tell the world that you are a Jeong now, looking at his wedding ring he remembers the beautiful times you spent together peacefully. And how he’s more than willing to embrace all this power and authority he has just so he could make this world a better place for you. It’s all for you. 

In a matter of days, Jaehyun became the boss of bosses. The head of the Jeongs and fulfilling his birthright. You have no choice but to watch him from the sidelines and be quiet even though you’re already his wife. It was as if you were nobody even though deep inside you’re basically a Jeong too.

That thought… of being a Jeong. Officially … just gives you headaches and heartaches at the same time. It feels wrong.

Ceremonies, gatherings and a lot of business meetings. Jaehyun faced them all and made him grow even more as a leader. You’re proud of him of course, and you’re happy whenever you see him in the news for a quick interview, him cutting a ribbon or whenever you see his face at the morning papers. You’re proud of him. 

And even though all these achievements are all good for his career… everyday, you feel like it’s creating a barrier between you and Jaehyun and it’s becoming thicker each day. 

Ever since the funeral you stayed at the headquarters with the others. You’re back to being an assassin, guarding rich people and providing protection whenever they need it. It’s whatever. Jaehyun insisted that you stop, but you told him that this is the only thing you know how to do even with your eyes closed. 

Maybe everything feels wrong because you’re not yet ready to be a wife to Jaehyun. 

“Don’t blame yourself. I’m sure he misses you too” Yuta said softly and gave you a cup of tea. “He’s been receiving death threats again. I think it was three today,” you just scoffed at that information knowing that Jaehyun wouldn’t be actually threatened by that. 

“People don’t know how he could be such a monster sometimes. Personally I think they should stop” 

You and Yuta just laugh at what you said because its true. For a minute, you and Yuta reminisce how Jaehyun was a crazy assassin at some point. You two also remembered how he used to be a normal person even before all of this happened. He was your friend, but now he’s your boss. Even now that you’re his wife… he’s more of a boss than a husband. 

“We can trade places tomorrow. I’m assigned to guarding Jaehyun’s office. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you” Yuta offered.

“I haven’t seen him up close since we got back” you murmured and looked at your wedding ring. “I wanted to take care of him, I wanted to iron his clothes, prepare him breakfast… like you know…. like a normal wife. Instead… I will guard his office, check every food he’s about to eat for possible food poison, and just… be a wife in my dreams. It frustrates me. I’m not sure if I’m ready to see him… let alone be with him the whole day… as one of his bodyguards”

But even though after listening to your sentiments, Yuta still encouraged you to trade places with him. For him, its better to see him from a far than not seeing him, its better for you to be with him the whole day while guarding his office, than not given the opportunity to do so. “Most wives wanted to guard their husbands 24/7 you know that?” Yuta tried making you laugh, he was talking about the cheating husbands and the wives that became dramatic overtime. 

“You watch too much T.V these days” you said while laughing. 

“Was it beautiful? The wedding?” Yuta asked sweetly only because he wanted to cheer you up. 

“Beautiful. Peaceful. Jaehyun was really happy and I was just feeling things I shouldn’t. He proposed two times already, and I turned him down because I wasn’t sure how can I make him happy… but when I finally said ‘yes’… its the first time ever that I saw him so joyful, so full of life… it was that moment that I realized that I alone can make the man that I love happy, I just need to trust myself” 

“Well, I’m sure you two will find a way back to that place again. Just hold on tight” he cheers you up. 

The next day, you guarded Jaehyun’s office with a happy heart. You left a cup of coffee on his desk with a small note, ‘I’m outside’- wife. It was out of love, and you wanted to know that you’re more than desperate to be with him. 

But Jaehyun burned the note. You saw him do it. 

For someone who is clueless and does not know the truth, it looked like Jaehyun was just burning a piece of paper for fun. Followed by lighting up his cigarette before starting to read the pile of documents in front of him today. Jaehyun didn’t like the idea. After a board meeting, Jaehyun called you inside his office privately. You thought that finally… after all the waiting you did for the following weeks, you will finally get to see him up close. 

“What were you thinking? What will happen if my enemies found out that you’re my wife? My wife. Who’s guarding me so freely. Who works for me” 

It sounded as if you weren’t enough to be his wife… that’s why he hasn’t made the announcement yet.  

Jaehyun wasn’t careful with his words and he didn’t mean it. 

“All I’m saying was, I cant let my enemies see you like this” 

He realized that the more he opens his mouth… the more he offends you without actually meaning it. Jaehyun wanted to tell you that, he wanted to protect you and hide you from his enemies. But that wasn’t exactly what happened. He just offended you. 

He didn’t get the chance to explain himself further or say sorry because you left already. He couldn’t stop you. Afraid that he might make the situation worst.

Driven by concern and guilt, Jaehyun managed to come to the headquarters for you at the end of the day. At least try to talk to you. He wanted to apologize and come pick you up for dinner if you let him. He felt bad about what happened earlier. He was just scared. That’s all. 

Just like a thief, he entered your room uninvited. See you sleep soundly. He wanted to wake you up but he thought maybe you were tired too. So instead of waking you up he just left a kiss on your forehead and made sure you’re all warm. Watching you under the warm light of your lampshade, asking himself, ‘is it really okay to deny you as his wife at this point?’ ‘is this really the only way to keep you safe?’ 

“At least you’re safe” he murmured.  

Of course you felt his presence. And you didn’t care if you were tired or sleepy. You wanted to spend time with him. Even though he broke your heart earlier. You were quick to hug him and kiss him, and told him he’s already forgiven. 

The night carried on beautifully as planned. Even though you two are basically hiding from the world. You two had hot noodles under the moon and stars, you watch your husband eat in front of you and help him wipe his face because he ate too messy. “Sorry. I was hungry” He got shy when you reached for the tissue to wipe his face and help him remove his tie so he could eat comfortably. Deep inside Jaehyun was happy. But he was shy that his ears are so red. 

“Why are you shy? Its not everyday I could take care of you” you said as you put more food in his bowl and pour him another glass of wine. Of course he knew that you wanted to take care of him as your husband, he knew that someday, you wanted to help him and support his and the boss he’s meant to be… but Jaehyun didn’t expect that it would be so hard.

“I’m sorry. I really am. Its just that… I receive death threats everyday. I couldn’t let you get involved in this kind of life that I have now. I’m really sorry, I am. I know you're 100% capable of taking care of yourself and these threats are just nothing... but its different. If the news comes out that youre my wife, the world will not stop until you're dead” Jaehyun explains. His heart breaks a million times because this is not the life he promised you when he asked you to marry him. 

“I’m sorry we can’t go back to our home yet… I sure miss it already” Jaehyun says softly to you. You wanted to tell him that you already forgot about it, that it was just a short dream for you and that the wedding ring that you two shared is the only proof that it actually happened… but you didn’t want to hurt him or start an argument. You’re just happy he’s here with you. 

And speaking of rings… Jaehyun caught you spacing out while looking at his ring. You were actually surprised he’s wearing it. “What if someone dares to ask about your ring?” you asked as if you were suggesting that he takes it off if he really wanted to hide that he’s a married man now.

“This is sacred,” he says sternly and reached out for your hand. “for better or for worse” he reminded you. “Just give me more time…I’ll come to you. As always” he promised.

After eating, he cuddled with you and waited for you to sleep but he was tired too that he slept first the moment he was comfortable in your bed and you couldn’t wake him up or disturb him. He misses your presence, your warmth and your touch. 

The next day Jaehyun met Chanyeol and talked about his enemies and possible enemies in the future. He spent weeks doing background checks, meetings, bribing, and torturing a few people just so he could find who sent the threats. But every time he kills a problem, another problem just pops out of nowhere. It felt endless Jaehyun thought. 

“‘I don’t want to be like my father’ isn’t that your life motto?” Chanyeol asked Jaehyun shamelessly. “I remember when I was just starting to work for the Jeongs… your father loved his family so much, that’s why he had the idea of having his own assassins”  

“Are you suggesting that I use the squad just so I could go and finally come home to Y/n?” 

“No. but the fact that the idea came from you scared me. I’m saying… that you should go on a different path Jeong Yoonoh” 

The next day, Chanyeol officially resigned. Of course Jaehyun couldn’t be selfish this time. His work will be doubled without Chanyeol… but his hyung has his own life too. 

“I have a daughter. She’s 3 years old already and tomorrow I’ll see her for the third time. That’s how much this job has taken from me Jaehyun. That’s the last thing I’ll teach you. You have a wife now. Don’t waste your time” Chanyeol said before saying his final goodbye to his student. 

After hearing what Chanyeol said, Jaehyun tried to be with you as much as he could. But he couldn’t.

He promised to be with you and you wait for him to arrive. But he never did. 

He talks to you but only through phone calls. 

By this time your patience is almost gone. But you can’t do anything about it. You’re married. 

Although, Jaehyun managed to give you your own place as a way of saying ‘sorry’. This way it was easier for him to visit you, but in some way, it became lonelier because you were always alone. Lonelier than ever. Even though, some days and nights were beautiful because you could spend it with him, still… its been lonely for you. 

“Jaehyun has been tiring everyone. Are you sure he’s still sane?” Taeyong complains while you and Yuta watch him do pull-ups. 

“Even you. His own wife. He treats you like shit. No offense Y/n. But… now that he’s the boss now, I think he should grant you your freedom already” Taeyong added. “Instead… he’s sending you to assassinate someone whenever he feels like it” 

“It’s my job” you try to defend yourself. 

“How about his job as your husband?” 

You we’re speechless. 

Changes happened so fast ever since Chanyeol left. The new apartment, new assassins, new people to kill, new bosses, new people to kill, new people to protect. Taeyong was right. Is Jaehyun still thinking straight? 

On the same day, Jaehyun came home and you found him sleeping on the bed with his shoes still on and a cup of untouched coffee on the bedside table. You figured he must have tried battling against sleepiness but couldn’t win because of tiredness. He must be really tired like everyone else, you thought. Even though Jaehyun’s choices in life right now make everyone's lives miserable, you’re sure that Jaehyun must be suffering and struggling alone too. 

“Hey…” he greeted you with a tired voice when he felt your presence, “what time did you arrive? I’m sorry. I tried coming home as fast as I could. I was in Bangkok for days— I missed you” he got up even though its obvious that all he wanted to do is rest. People don’t see this side of Jaehyun. And you’re the only one who could see him weak like this. It pains you. 

“I missed you too?” you said sweetly, he initiated the kiss, you kissed him back, showing him that you still long for him, you still want him every second of the day. But for someone who’s tired to the bone, he sure does have the energy to turn you on and imply that he wanted to have sex tonight. “If you’re tired, we could just lay down and talk until the sun rises” he suggests, he’s aware that he’s been tiring everyone lately too, including you. The suggestion stands, but Jaehyun couldn't stop himself from devouring your neck and kissing you just how you want it.

“Don’t stop my love” you made sure he heard you right. You returned his hungry kisses and quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt. You remember the last time you had sex, it was your wedding night, and the thought of it just makes you want to melt into Jaehyun’s body, grinding on his hardening cock and using each other for your own pleasure. You hold on to him, scratching his back and leaving a few bruises on his skin because you were so so so desperate to keep him close to you. 

“I’m sorry. I’m here now” he managed to whisper. In one swift he put you in all fours, kneading your boobs from behind and pinching your nipples while he enjoys touching your body and making you feel good with his hands alone. Pulling you against his chest, you feel his lips on the shells of your ear, hearing every breath he takes. It sounded sexy, and the sound alone just makes you wet. “Can I be rough tonight?” Jaehyun asks while kissing your body back, hand beside your waist, keeping you still for all the kisses that he’s about to give your body. All you can do is nod and kiss him back with the same hunger. 

From behind, he licked your leaking cunt, you were so wet at the moment only because it has been so long ever since he touched you. Jaehyun can see and feel how you shiver at every touch, every lick he does to you. And he likes what he’s seeing. He decided to be more playful and run a finger slowly to your cunt. Your hole is ready to be fucked but Jaehyun wanted to make you wet even more. Without a warning, he licked your slit followed by his fingers, making small circle on your sensitive bud which makes your knees weak, making you land on the mattress and let out beautiful moan. Jaehyun was quick to pull your waist back up and kiss your back, the tip of his cock sliding up and down on your cunt, which makes you grip the sheets and hold on to whatever you can. You reach behind for his hand, asking him to hold hands with you which he complies before pushing in. You feel his lips on your lips as he slowly thrust in and out but not for long. It was just his way of saying, ‘im going to be rough, if it hurts make me stop’. 

You feel his hand on your waist while he thrust so hard and you hear slapping. Your face is perfectly buried on the mattress as you take every pleasure your husband gives you. You hear him moan and his moans were perfect. It was obvious that you make him feel good and that alone just makes you want more. 

His lips and his thrust were on different rhythms. His thrusts were nothing but hard, to the extent that you let out a small scream here and there, feeling his skin burn yours. Oh youre sure you’ll have bruises when you wake up tomorrow, you’re not even sure if you could walk properly. While his lips bring you comfort, warm like his being. You’re sure that his kisses left marks on your back too. You just smile at every thought running through your head. And Jaehyun caught you. 

“So you seemed to be enjoying. I’m glad” He suddenly stopped thrusting and proceeded to kiss your lips, flipping you once again facing him this time. He caresses your legs for a few seconds, touching your body while he whispers dirty things beside your ear that of course… makes you wet and want for more. When his fingers slide on your wet slit, Jaehyun was amazed at how he made you wet this time. “Can I slap your cunt?” he asks, you nod. 

He slapped your cunt in a way you loved every sting of it. Making your legs closed but your husband was quick to compensate for every sting from a hard slap with a soft touch, a soft kiss, a finger inside or a spit followed by his tongue. And when he was satisfied, he thrusted his hard cock once again and fuck you slowly this time. Looking you in the eye and melting you, making you shy. He just smiles back at you while continuing to make you crazy. When he finally reaches his high, he removes his cock from your hole and came on on top of you. Watching his thick cum paint your pussy and stomach. It was messy but no one cared. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were safe…” he was talking about your pill. “That made me realize, what kind of husband am I… I dont even know if I could cum inside my wife” he reaches for the tissue from the bedside table and wiped every cum on your skin. Kissing lower stomach all the way up until he reaches your lips and stays on top of you. Putting both of your arms on top of your head, and making you swing your arms around his neck. He wanted you to keep him close. 

“Thank you for pulling out,” is all you managed to say. 

“Can you still go for another round? Or a couple more?” He asks while kissing your neck. 

“Yeah just give me a few minutes,” you paused and took this time to express what your’e feeling, “I missed you” 

“I miss you too. You’ve been nothing but patient with me and Im grateful” he kissed your hand which had your wedding ring on it. “everything will be worth it I promise” You rolled your eyes playfully. 

“Kiss me” You commanded he complies. In a matter of seconds he’s inside you again. You clenched around him kept him close to your body held him tight and kissed him deeply. “Come home more often” you managed to moan, and all he could do is nod and return the favor of what youre doing by rolling his hips slowly and thrusting deeper. Kissing you more and keeping you on your toes.

On the next day, it was a cold morning. The room was painted with blue, and the sun was just about to rise. Jaehyun had the privilege of waking you up early in the morning even though he completely worn you out last night. He just wanted to make sure he doesnt waste his time. “Good morning” he says, kissing you softly, waking you up in the most softest way. When you finally opened your eyes, your heart skipped a beat when you saw Jaehyun’s face. His dimples flashing and a handsome smile. 

“Did you sleep well?” He asked, you nod and pulled him in for a hug, making sure youre not dreaming. “I’m thankful for you” he says, making you smile and putting butterflies in your stomach, first thing in the morning.

As you two head on with your day, this is the first time you help him prepare for work as his wife. You picked his clothes, you watch him get dressed, you fix his tie, its perfect. On the other hand, Jaehyun too was happy because he could spend this morning with you, he hugged you from behind while you were drying your hair. And told you that he will try to come home everyday from now on followed by aplogies. Sincere apologies that were whispered beside your ear which sent shivers down your spine. 

“Just give me more time. I love you” 

You were not like other couples, like normal couples and you think its time to face that as a married couple.

Of course the sex suddenly fixed everything. 

He comes home regularly. 

Spend mornings sweetly. 

Spend longer nights together that include moaning his name while his tongue is making you feel good. 

The sex became rougher and its okay because you both love it. 

But of course it didn’t last for long. 

Days become stressful for Jaehyun because of Kun. He’s now working hand in hand with Johnny, planning to overthrow Jaehyun with being the king of the city, for being the powerful man that he is now. But Jaehyun is smarter than all of them.

As an assassin he is used to research. Researching and studying everything about who he needs to kill, and how.

What is their most prized possession?

Who is the most important person in their life?

If Jaehyun were to ask these questions, you are the answer.

Sometimes, he thanks his father for making him an assassin first rather than the heir of this huge company. He'd grow us useless and stupid if it weren't for Chanyeol and the 127 squad. Maybe that’s the reason why his father made him an assassin in the first place. To gain important experience.

Jaehyun played by the book but played dirty too. He made sure his enemies will remember him. For Johnny, Jaehyun made sure that his daughter is safe… but the catch is, Johnny has no clue where Jaehyun kept her hidden. Yes. He kidnapped her. Which made Johnny beg on his knees one afternoon at Jaehyun’s office. Everyone witnessed it, but they have no clue why.

“Kun. Tell me where he keeps his airplanes” Jaehyun demanded as Johnny begged on his knees.

Soon Johnny told Jaehyun where Kun kept his airplanes. It is where he keeps his money and his gold. Knowing Kun, he’s obsessed with his airplanes, and his riches.

And Jaehyun burned them all down with his own lighter.

You have no idea what Jaehyun has done for the past week, you can only see that he’s exhausted but he’s happy.

While you were sleeping, you felt Jaehyun’s hand creep under your sleepwear, caressing your exposed stomach and trying to wake you up with his kisses. He smelled like alcohol, you bet he’s been drinking with his trusted new business partners. Drunken men who cheat with their wives overseas, rich people who make everything and anything happen.

You don’t ask for too much. All you want to do is for him to come home to you and spend time with you as much as he can. Sober.

“I know what you’re thinking.. you probably smelled it already, but I’m not drunk. Was… but not anymore— can we go for a few rounds?” he asked shamelessly. Obviously he’s horny. But you didn’t like how he was asking you to have sex with him, after not coming home for a week. You felt like… you’re someone whom he just uses for adult stress release.

But maybe he was tired and that he really missed you and you’re just quick with your ugly judgment. You dont know anymore.

“Where do you sleep whenever you don’t come home?” It was just a question, a question out of concern, a conversation starter, but Jaehyun unfortunately got offended.

“I am many things. But I will never cheat on you” he said. Sternly. He got up from his comfort next to you and proceeded to remove his tie. You checked the time and it’s almost time to start your day. But for Jaehyun, he was just about to end his.

“I didn’t mean it that way Jae—“

“Then enlighten me” he asks coldly.

You watch him remove his watch, roll his sleeves and face you, while he waits for your answer.

“I feel like… you just come home to me for sex… but I wanted to understand you more. So I avoided the subject, that’s why asked you instead ‘where do you sleep—“

“In a hotel. Alone. Are you happy now?” he answered, crossing his shoulders in front of you as if he was still waiting for you to talk, “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. But I guess I’m just one horny motherfucker”

He let’s out a heavy sigh, realizing that his words aren’t right and you don’t deserve to be treated this way. His pride stops him from telling you he’s sorry, even though he wanted to. But Jaehyun turned his back on you and proceeds to take a shower. Preparing for yet another busy day in the office.

What have you done? You told to yourself.

Before Jaehyun leaves you tried to invite him for coffee. But he just kissed you goodbye, answered an urgent call and left immediately.

Jaehyun did not come home for days, he didn’t even said goodbye to you when he left for Macao. At this point, you’re not sure how else or what kind of apology you should do, all you could do is wait for his return.

Without Chanyeol, Jaehyun doesn’t have someone whom he trusts the most when it comes to his armies. Armies meaning… Jaehyun’s assassin. Everyone thought that Jaehyun would pick Taeyong because he is his best friend, but no. Jaehyun hired someone new. Someone who is trustworthy, who isn’t biased, and who will follow and protect Jaehyun with his life. He is Jaehyun’s cousin, Doyoung.

Knowing that he isn’t biased, Doyoung gave the 127 squad equal field assignments while Jaehyun was away. The mission was fine, it wasn’t bloody at all, and it wasn't hard for you, Taeyong and Yuta… but when Doyoung said that Mark is not capable enough to protect Jaehyun and that he needed to finish a field assignment on his own to prove it, everyone protested.

"Mark has been protecting Jaehyun ever since he learned how to hack shit!" you shouted. "Mark can protect everyone through his screens-- are you dumb?"

But even though everyone voiced out their frustrations, Doyoung is still unstoppable.

“I’ve been calling Jaehyun but he isn’t answering” you tried to comfort Mark. He’s been shaking ever since the announcement.

“We will shadow you and assist you secretly,” Taeyong says as he tries to lessen Mark’s nervousness.

“I swear if Mark dies, I’m killing Jaehyun” Yuta jokes, but he was frustrated as well.

“Everyone calm down I’m sure Jaehyun is not aware… no calls have been reaching him” you told everyone but deep inside you wern't sure.

The plan to shadow Mark secretly and assist him went in shambles when Doyoung announced that you, Yuta and Taeyong are supposed to pick up Jaehyun privately from Macao and bring him home safe.

Yes you want to see Jaehyun. Of course you wanted to protect your husband… but Mark needs you and it breaks your heart that you’re so powerless.

When you and the others picked up Jaehyun successfully, no one was talking in the helicopter but everyone is nervous. There was a time that Mark was still reacheable and that he sends signals that he's okay but not for long. And when you guys are back to the headquarters, Mark still hasn't come back.

Until Doyoung officially announced that he failed.

“He got shot and his body went straight to the icy river…” he informed everyone with heavy heart, regret and kept apologizing.

Yuta was quick to start a fight and punched Doyoung too many times, he just let him. Thinking he deserved it. You hear Taeyong punch the wall out of anger, crying and just plainly out of words.

You on the other hand, went out of the room and cried in one space, pulling yourself together, closing your eyes and hoping that this is all a dream. Everyone saw it coming. But everyone did not do anything to save him from the situation. There’s a part of you that blames Jaehyun, but of course, you avoid that thought.

For years of being together, Mark was the source of happiness of the squad. His never ending jokes, his loud voice, his loud laughs over your earpiece. You remember it all and it will never be the same again. He’s the best hacker that you know, and you’re just sad to the core that not everyone appreciates that.

It was dark times, but everything went black out when the days continued and Mark was not with you anymore.

You and Jaehyun constantly fight everyday, arguing, shouting and hurting each other through words you never told to each other before. Of course Jaehyun blames himself for Mark’s death too. It was heavy for him too. You don’t see it, but Jaehyun was looking for comfort too, someone that will tell him completely that its not his fault. But nobody showed up for him.

He did’t showed up during Mark’s funeral. And you got mad at him.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I didn’t know!” Jaehyun shouted for the nth time.

It was loud and clear of course, but he didn’t even let everyone who cared mourned for Mark and made everyone work again like nothing happened.

“It’s just how everything goes around here Y/n!!! We live in a deadly world!!!”

“A deadly world that you and your father built Jeong Yoonoh. If you don’t care about the goodness in this world anymore, I don’t want to be a part of it” you said crying.

Your words pierced through Jaehyun’s heart especially you called him ‘Yoonoh’, he was scared to the core that you might leave him this time, and this fight cannot be fixed anymore. Not to mention your freedom is getting near. You have every right and power to leave.

“So where are you going to build a life now?” You were talking to Yuta and Taeyong about their plans when they get away from this prison. It makes you happy, knowing that they can be free and live the life they want.

“Japan. To my family, I’m taking Taeyong with me. He plans on establishing a bakery there” Yuta answered. “How about you?”

You scoffed, “what about me? Did you guys forget that I’m a Jeong now? I cant leave him”

“We all know you love him. But he’s drowning of power now and — I cant even recognize him anymore” Yuta says.

“He’s not the Jaehyun that we grew up with, he’s not the Jaehyun that you loved anymore. Faced that truth” Taeyong said sternly. “You’ve earned your freedom. Think about it. Think long and hard”

When the day finally arrived that Taeyong and Yuta are free from the Jeongs it was a bittersweet goodbye. You’re happy for them, but you were sad for yourself. You remember the first day that you guys met and the first mission, everything was all worth it you thought.

“Don’t act like you’re still not free Y/n. You too, you’re free now. Don’t stay here” Taeyong explains for the last time.

Looking back a few years from now, you and Jaehyun were both excited for your own freedom and were of course, looking forward to finally leaveing everything behind. You remember how fiercely you loved each other during those times, and you remember how Jaehyun literally looked like a ball of sunshine. Who lights up your day and make everything better in a matter of seconds.

Now… everything about Jaehyun is dark. His aura, his eyes, the way he talks… everything. He really looked like a Jeong now. High, mighty and scary.

“So did they left?” Jaehyun asks. He was drinking alone at the kitchen counter, he looked wasted. You noticed he has a new tattoo on his hand, you didn’t bother asking the story behind it. You just nod at his question and avoid him for the rest of the night.

Ever since Mark’s death, you and Jaehyun stopped sleeping on the same bed, and stopped talking to each other dearly, but you sure do want to stay. But on times like this, especially when you’re lonely, you don’t know why you keep on staying with him. In this place. Truth be told you would rather sleep on the headquarters than this cold and dark place. It’s not that you hated seeing him, his presence still make your heart skip a beat, happy because he’s alive and well. And well… physically you could be together. You’re thankful regardless.

Jaehyun hears your cry every night, it breaks his heart too. Knowing that he’s not enough to make you happy anymore even though he’s doing everything he can to make this life bearable for you. But no matter how hard he tries… he’s not enough.

This is his worst nightmare. Watching your marriage fall apart because he can’t give you the life he promised.

Even though you wanted to break free, you stayed and work for Jaehyun. You kill for him, train new assassins for him, but you were never given the chance to become a proper wife anymore.

It was a quiet afternoon when you just got back from a mission that Doyoung rushed you to finish. You don’t know why he was in a hurry but you were so pissed that you showed up in his office with blood in your hands and face.

“What the fuck do you want?” You shouted. You assumed that it was Doyoung who’s sitting behind that chair but no… it was Jaehyun. And Doyoung was the one sitting beside the table.

You never thought that this day would come.

The day when you received a mission from Jaehyun. Not from Doyoung. From Jaehyun directly.

It hurt you so much seeing him all worked up and stressed, he can’t even look you in the eye as he explains what needs to be done. But after he’s done explaining the mission, he put out his handkerchief and wipes the blood off your face. “Can you give us the room?” Jaehyun politely asked to Doyoung which he followed of course.

“I know this is hard for you, because it’s hard for me too” he let out a heavy sigh before continuing… you thought that this time he’s going to say he misses you or say something that will brighten up the mood. But he didn’t.

“I need you to not fail this mission” he added.

And that made you mad. You wanted to shout at him, you wanted to punch him but you knew that staying silent and avoiding him at all costs will hurt him even more.

It was quiet. Jaehyun was waiting for you to break the silence.

“Can I have the name?” You asked without looking at him.

“It’s Kun” he says, and after collecting all the paper work that you needed from the desk you bravely left your wedding ring.

You didn’t dare asked how the fuck is Kun still alive. You have so many questions but you didn’t dare asked him because that small room is suffocating you. Not to mention your little skit about the ring. He didn’t even bother coming after you when you left the room. That’s just means you mean nothing to him.

By the time you started the mission, you thought that he will be hard to find but no. He contacted you directly and gave you an invitation for dinner in the skies. Of course you accepted it, even though you had direct orders from Jaehyun that you are not allowed to have a conversation with him.

“Do you love flying this much?” You asked him. He just smiled.

“This way, there’s no other assassins that could kill me, no people listening, just pure privacy. Just you and me”

You watch him pour another glass of champagne and watch him take a sip, you noticed he was shaking.

“I don’t have anything up in my sleeves too because I’m only here to tell you the truth” there was a slight pause, you wait for him to have the courage but truth be told, you’re not ready to hear what he’s about to say.

“While you were on coma, back then, Jaehyun found me after killing my double. I was afraid to die in his hands especially when I wasn’t the one who poisoned you — it wasn’t me, I promise. It was Jaehyun’s father. And I know that because… well we Phantoms are always 5 times ahead” he joke, you agreed.

“But when I told Jaehyun that truth… he made a deal with me. I kill his father and the Jeongs will not come after me anymore, and I become the boss. I fucked up. I admit. Got excited and killed his father first. Not knowing that Mr. Jeong is as smart as Jaehyun. His final will and testament just made Jaehyun untouchable and impossible to replace. Time passed and the man you love changed and now drowning in power—“

“You don’t need to tell my life’s story. I’m well aware—“ you tried to cut him off but he continued.

“ And here you are. He even sent his wife to clean up his mess. Are you sure you’re married to the right person?”

Kun noticed you don’t have your wedding ring. He thought maybe you left him “Good choice” he added without even asking you.

After knowing the truth while watching the sun go down high above the skies, Kun helped you stage his death and you agreed to let him go because he proved to you that he’s innocent.

When you get back, Jaehyun was happy that you didn’t fuck up… for a short time…but soon found out that Kun’s death was just staged. And so Jaehyun killed him with his own hands. He turned a blind eye about you being a traitor because he knew that you’re already fed up of what’s happening to your lives now.

But on top of it all, he already knew that one of these days, you will decide to leave him.

You on the other hand has succumbed into the darkness of your room and stayed there for days without talking to anyone, and without eating anything. All you want to do is get away from this place and live your life alone. Even if the thought of leaving Jaehyun hurts you so much already.

One night, Jaehyun tried to make everything right by bravely visiting you into your room, he promised to himself that he will do everything tonight just to make everything right. If he gets lucky he will hand you your wedding ring again.

He didn’t knock and just welcomed himself into your room. He found you staring at your window while you’re comfortably laying in your bed. He didn’t want to disturb your peace but he has to do this and try to win you back.

“I’m sorry” he whispers sweetly, and lay on the bed with you. He wrapped his arms around you but it felt like he’s suffocating you instead of comforting you. Suddenly Jaehyun doesn’t feel like home anymore.

“What kind of person kills his own father?” You started.

Shocked that you already know the truth, Jaehyun couldn’t handle what’s happening in front of him now.

“I did it so we could live peacefully—“

“Look at us now Jaehyun. You did this to us. You’re drowning of power—“

“That’s not true” Jaehyun defends.

“Then what is. I don’t even know you anymore, I’m hurt Jaehyun. I’m hurt that we’re fighting right now, I’m hurt that were not together anymore but I felt safe when I turned my back on you. I don’t want to be a Jeong”

“So this it? You’re really leaving me?”

“I believe that I’m not the right person for you”

There was silence. Suffocating silence for both you and Jaehyun. You continue to cry and forget that he’s in the room with you, while Jaehyun just sat there on the edge of your bed. The whole conversation did not include any screaming, maybe you two got tired of screaming already.

Jaehyun has a lot to say. But this is the furthest he can go with you.

This is the end.

Thank you so much for reading this work of mine! If you love what you read, please leave something in my inbox and tell me how you feel! CLICK THIS LINK. I hope we can practice, give and take.

Stay tuned for the next part! -B.

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct jaehyun smut #jaehyun smut #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct #taeyong #nct hard hours #nct dream x reader #jaehyun x reader #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun angst #jaehyun imagines #nct u #fmk #nct fluff #nct angst #nct 127 fluff

[xpao-bearx]

"Like A Virgin"

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Read Part 1 HERE

Read Part 3 HERE

Read Part 4 HERE

NOTES: Y'ALL the way my jaw literally DROPPED when not even H A L F a minute after I posted the first part, you guys were already exploding my notifs which I wasn't expecting AT ALL I swear Oscar Isaac's really got us sluts in a chokehold O_o

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUU!!! 😭❤️❤️❤️ This is truly wonderful and encourages me a lot, especially since this is my first ever Moon Knight fic AND the first time a story of mine blew up this much! This is also great cuz I've been terribly sick, but of course ✨️priorities✨️ I gotta shower our Moon Boys with some much deserved lovin' and it's just so fucking nice to see that it's paying off! \(^o^)/ I was so happy and inspired that I couldn't resist and just HAD to write this second part ASAP!

Dissociative identity disorder is also briefly mentioned here and if I made any mistakes, then I apologize and please kindly correct me. And I feel like the ending may be a bit rushed, but it's the best my tiny brain could think of!

I'll shut up now and I'm very proud and excited to present... PART 2!!! 🥳 And if you'd like to be tagged for any of the next parts, feel free to tell me!

Also Marc does something very asshole-y here oop

TAGS: @autismsupermusicalassassin @ungracefularchimedes @pimosworld @ababynova @sweatyroadcowboyjudge @anapnovo-blog @am-3-thyst @harrys-tittie @zukoisbabee @wiltedwonderland

Part 2: You made me feel I've nothing to hide

After work, instead of heading home, you rushed straight to the nearest boutique to buy yourself a new dress for tomorrow night. The butterflies in your stomach were doing somersaults and you felt as if you could spontaneously burst into song like in those cheesy musicals your former college roommate was so obsessed with.

You knew the employees were all looking at you oddly as you constantly giggled to yourself like some lovesick schoolgirl while you perused through endless racks of the latest fashion. Of course you knew you were acting ridiculous--crazy--but wasn't that what attraction or, dare you say, love did to you?

Besides, you wanted tomorrow to go perfectly. In your eyes, Steven Grant was already perfect--perfectly imperfect or imperfectly perfect, you didn't know or care which was which. You just knew that you liked him. A lot.

And it relieved and pleased you to the moon and back that he actually felt the same! So, who cares what anyone else thought?

You just hoped that after tomorrow, Steven would like you enough to go on another date. And another. Then another...

Maybe you were looking--wishing--too far into the future, but you swore you could almost hear wedding bells chiming in the distance.

God, is this what happens after being a total virgin for twenty-something years? There was absolutely nothing wrong with being a virgin, but your insecurity bugged you. What if you weren't at all what Steven expected?

But another part of you, a positive ray of sunshine, clobbered all your doubts. For once, you were going to be brave! You were going to take a leap of faith! You were going to control your life!

Because, in the end...it was worth it. Steven was worth it. Sure, you've experienced various crushes throughout your life, but not like this. Not with Steven. This felt more...serious. Adult.

It felt as if right from the get-go crossing fates with "Steven with a V", your life was about to change--for the better.

Of course you were afraid, and yet you've also never been more sure of something in your entire existence. You've been waiting this long and you're glad you did, and now you were ready to jump head first (and head over heels) into whatever adventure was in store for you--with Steven.

You then squealed excitedly when you spotted the perfect dress, ignoring the judgmental stares other customers shot you as you hurriedly grabbed it like a child in a toy store.

Yes, tomorrow was going to be a dream come true.

♡•••🌙•••♡

You arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes early. It was totally embarrassing how eager you were, but you couldn't help yourself. Though at least with how early you were, you snagged a good table overlooking the restaurant's beautiful back garden strung with fairy lights and you can have some time to calm down before Steven came.

And you looked stunning. Your hair tumbled down in elegant waves, light makeup adoring your face and donning the contact lenses you rarely used. And the dress you bought fit like a glove; it was the shortest dress you now owned, stopping around your thighs. It was baby blue and had an off-the-shoulder style with some frills, and it hugged your figure just right.

You felt very self-conscious. You've always fancied clothes like this, but never actually had the guts to wear them--until now. Did it really suit you? But you couldn't deny that you were happy and, truly, isn't that all that mattered?

"Shall I get you started, ma'am?" A waitress snapped you back to reality and you shook your head.

"Not yet, thank you. I'm still waiting for my...date." The word made you blush furiously, as if sharing a dirty little secret.

The waitress smiled and nodded, leaving you by yourself once more as you sighed wistfully.

You took out your phone from your purse, checking the time. 6:45 p.m. Alright, not too long now. And you double checked that the address you texted Steven was correct, which it is.

You settled back in your chair, peering over the garden and giggling softly.

"I'm right here for you, Steven."

♡•••🌙•••♡

"It's about time, innit?" Steven murmured, glancing over anxiously at his wristwatch for the umpteenth time. It was already eight p.m., a whole hour past your meeting time (not to mention he arrived embarrassingly early). And he was just informed by one of the servers that the restaurant was closing in thirty minutes, to which a pitiful look was also casted to him.

"It's not 'about time', Steven. It's late." Marc gruffly pointed out, Steven seeing Marc's reflection glaring back at him from the shiny silver flower vase set in the middle of the table. "Face it: she's NOT coming."

"Don't you dare say that." Steven's voice was barely above a whisper, but there was a certain edge to it that one would normally not hear from the soft man. "Y/N would never do that. Not her. She's just running late, I'm sure. Traffic and all."

"Oh, please, we both know that even the traffic here doesn't take this long." Marc scoffed. "Stop kidding yourself, Steven. She's. NOT. Coming."

Steven frowned, and with a shaky hand he pulled out his phone. He should've called you since way earlier. It was the logical thing to do, after all. But he was...scared. Scared that, maybe, a terrifying maybe, Marc was right.

He found your number and called you, pressing his phone to his ear as it began to ring. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until you finally picked up, voice groggy.

"Hello..?"

"Y/N..." Steven heaved a relieved exhale. "Hey, uh, I'm at the restaurant. Guess you got stuck in traffic?" He chuckled halfheartedly.

A long, dreadful pause. And then:

"Fucking EXCUSE me?"

Steven's eyes widened, having never heard you swear before. He was just about to ask what was wrong when you continued without skipping a beat.

"Are you playing with me, Steven? Is this what it is?!" You definitely sounded angry, but he didn't miss the faint sniffles coming from you. Shit, were you crying? What the hell was happening?

"How can you be such a...such a DICK?!" You shouted, causing him to jerk his phone a few inches away from his ear. "I fucking waited for you like a total idiot until closing time, you prick! You never showed and you never answered my calls! What the fuck can you POSSIBLY gain from toying with me, huh?!"

"W-Wait, I don't understand!" Steven was nearly hyperventilating, all the colour draining from his face and his mind running a mile a minute. "I-I'm here! Right now! D-Didn't we agree? Friday night, seven p.m.?"

You were dead silent. Steven was going to check if the call was still connected when you beat him to it.

"Steven... It's Sunday."

Steven froze. Then his eyes landed on Marc's reflection, refusing to meet his gaze and it clicked.

"Y/N." Steven said slowly, steadily, despite feeling like crying himself. His eyes were still on Marc, cold and pissed. "Please. I promise I have an explanation. I just... God, can we meet? Y/N, please, I'll come to you."

"No need." Tears threatened to spill from Steven's despondent eyes at your flat response, before you suddenly added: "I'll come to you. You said you were at the restaurant, right? Stay there."

You ended the call, and Steven flared at Marc--no longer caring if other people perceived him as a lunatic fighting with himself.

"Why the fuck would you do that, Marc?"

"Steven..." Marc struggled to find the right words, and the asshole actually had the audacity to look ashamed. "Listen, she's nothing but a distraction--"

"You always think you know better, yeah?" Steven laughed humourlessly. "A distraction? YOU stop kidding yourself, Marc. This is not just your life, but mine. And it's about fucking time you stop being such a selfish bastard!"

"Um, sir?" Steven winced, greeted by a baffled waiter. "We'll be closing soon, so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave if you're not ordering anything."

Humiliated and repeatedly babbling apologies, Steven abruptly sprang out of his chair and dashed outside. He sighed deeply and collapsed listlessly on the ground, finally allowing the tears to fall.

He vaguely heard footsteps approaching until he saw a pair of worn bunny slippers in front of him. His eyes heavily dragged upwards, finding you staring back at him with an unreadable expression and breaths coming out in ragged pants.

"Y/N!" Steven jumped up, surprised you actually came despite the way he--the way Marc--treated you. Your bloodshot eyes and the dried tears on your cheeks only made him feel even shittier, much more fucked up than any beating he suffers on a mission.

Because at least with those, he can be confident that he and the boys would win no matter the challenge. But with you?

He had everything to lose.

Your hair was a total mess; glasses slightly crooked and you were in your pyjamas, a matching set of a purple tank top and shorts with stars and moons. The only thing you had covering you was a purple silk robe, drawing it closer to your chilly body as your eyes narrowed at Steven.

You should be mad at him, and you were. Still, despite everything, you hopped on to the first bus you saw and scrambled the rest of the way here as fast as you could.

But now that you were here...what in Khonshu's name were you going to do? You could scream at him with all the pain you haven't had the pleasure to release like you did on the phone, but you'd just be wasting your breath. Then again, he wasn't lying. He really is here. And it confused you more than anything.

And seeing him like this, looking so...sad. Well, it made you sad. Him miserably clenching onto a heart shaped chocolate box, fat globs of tears cascading down his cheeks as he gawked at you with his pretty doe brown eyes.

You raised your hand, and Steven shut his eyes as he braced himself for the slap he very much deserved--only to be met with your soft palm, wiping away his tears tenderly.

"Explain to me, Steven."

♡•••🌙•••♡

The travel to Steven's apartment was spent in deafening silence, but it brought upon a strange sort of comfort. Unconsciously, you hugged Steven's black jacket that he had offered you earlier even closer to your much smaller frame. It soothed your nerves, being completely enveloped in his smell; fresh soap with a hint of musky cologne.

Once you reached his unit, you couldn't help but smile. It was just so...Steven. It was a bit messy, but a good kind of messy. You didn't really know how to describe it, but it warmed your heart especially when you saw a giant fish tank with only one goldfish.

"Cuppa tea?" Steven asked to which you shook your head, facing him fully.

"No. I'm a 'get over it' kinda girl so whatever your explanation is, I'd rather we just nip it in the bud." You huffed before you halted, biting your lip. "Oh, uh, sorry... Of course, if you wanna have tea, you can. It's your home, after all."

Steven laughed, his first real laugh that entire day. "Are you always this nice to blokes you should be mad at?"

"Only if they are really into Egyptology and have beautiful brown eyes and gorgeous curls." You rolled your eyes though you couldn't suppress your grin before you cleared your throat, getting a hold of your stupid giddy self. "Now, explain."

Steven's demeanour instantly shifted, serious now and quite uneasy. But he nodded and gestured towards the couch. You walked over and plopped down, Steven sitting next to you and keeping a respectful couple inches between the two of you.

He looked down at the ground, carefully considering his words before meeting your gaze solemnly. "Have you ever heard of dissociative identity disorder?" You nodded, previously learning about it in Psychology class and researching about it due to personal interest. "That's...what I have. I'm an alter within a system, and there are two others--Marc Spector and Jake Lockley."

"Am I correct to assume that when you asked me out...it wasn't actually you?"

Steven blinked, rather startled that you were taking this so well. "Yes. Jake was the one who asked you out."

"Was he also the one who didn't show up for the date?"

"No, that would be Marc." He grumbled. "And listen, I'm truly sorry about him. He's a right twit. It may not have been me who didn't show up, but that absolutely doesn't excuse the hurt it caused you. I am so, so sorry, Y/N."

Your brows furrowed, mulling over this new revelation. But...you believed him, especially when it explained all those times you secretly caught Steven muttering incoherently to himself or staring at his reflection and quietly reacting to something. You were curious about more, of course, but Steven didn't have any reason to lie about such a serious matter. And if he was lying, there were plenty of other things he could say. But the way he acted, and just the look in his eyes--he knew the risks of opening up to you, but he did it anyway.

You clasped his hands in yours, sighing. "I know I look calm right now, but trust me, I'm freaking the fuck out." You chuckled, and Steven felt safe enough to join you. "But... I trust you, Steven. And I believe you. Tell me one thing, though. Are you...into me? Like, at all?"

"Of course I am!" He replied in a flash, making you both pause before erupting into easy laughter. "Why would you even have to ask that, love?"

"It's just... Well, if Jake was the one who asked me out, it made me wonder if you really did like me." You mumbled, looking away.

Steven gently grasped your chin, tipping your face back towards him. "I've liked you since the day we met, Y/N. In your pink skirt and the cute little pigtails you had." He smiled, eyes so amorous and gleaming with sincerity. "Truth is, I've wanted to ask you out since forever. I'm just not as...forward as Jake is."

"And that's fine. But hey, we gotta thank him 'cause Lord knows I'd just spiral into a panic attack if I ever made the first move." You chuckled. But it gradually died down as Steven continued to stare at you, and you never thought you would ever have someone look at you the way Steven did; as if you were precious treasure hidden within a sacred tomb.

Slowly, ever so slowly, your body started moving of its own accord. You were leaning closer, closer, closer--a mere breath away from his lips before he piped up.

"I'm also Khonshu's Avatar!"

"Say what?"

"Um, well, you see--" He stammered, mentally slapping himself.

'Don't say anything, Steven.' Marc warned, and it took all of Marc's willpower not to seize control and actually slap Steven.

But it was too late now. Steven already said too much, but he wanted to be honest with you. Utterly so. And since you wanted to nip this in the bud, now was the best time more than anything.

"Erm... You've seen the news, yeah?" He didn't grant you the chance to respond as he rambled. "Masked vigilantes... Moon Knight and Mr. Knight? They're actually...Marc and I."

"Steven, this is--"

"I'll show you, Y/N. I'll summon the suit."

"Summon the soup? What is happening--"

Steven stood up, and a split second later there was a whirl of white. And sure enough, there was none other than one half of the mysterious heroes you've been seeing a lot on the news recently; his glowing white eyes locked with yours, crisp ivory suit and batons clutched tightly in his hands.

"Look, I know this is a lot to take in--"

"Handsome..." You blurted out before you can restrain yourself.

"Huh?" Steven blushed underneath the mask, and you were the same as your cheeks tinted crimson. Then you rose from the couch, closing the gap between you two and removing his mask.

His curls stuck every which way and his eyes were as wide as the full moon, making you giggle. "You're so handsome, Steven. And yeah, this is a fucking lot to take in. To be honest, a part of me is still wondering if this is all just a dream." You reached up, caressing the side of his face sweetly and smiling. "But...thank you. Thank you for being honest with me."

His batons dropped to the floor, trembling hands hesitantly settling on your hips. You noticed his Adam's apple bob as he looked down at you, tears once again glistening in his eyes. Happiness, relief, adoration--how can so many exhilarating emotions crash over him all at once?

"Can I be more honest?" He whispered, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed deeply into your eyes. "I...want you to stay with me."

Your cheeks hurt from how impossibly wide your smile has stretched, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling his nose with yours.

"I'm staying whether you like it or not, Steven with a V."

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight Smut #Steven Grant #Jake Lockley #Marc Spector #Steven Grant Smut #Jake Lockley Smut #Marc Spector Smut #Steven Grant x Reader #Jake Lockley x Reader #Marc Spector x Reader #Steven Grant x Reader Smut #Jake Lockley x Reader Smut #Marc Spector x Reader Smut #Reader x Steven Grant #Reader x Jake Lockley #Reader x Marc Spector #Reader x Steven Grant Smut #Reader x Jake Lockley Smut #Reader x Marc Spector Smut #Oscar Isaac

[two-white-butterflies]

drug (two) | toto wolff

Description: He meets his girlfriend's parents, and they don't like him. (age gap.)

Pairing: toto wolff/horner!reader

part one

"We're trending, and not for a good reason." you chuckled nervously, browsing through the thick of social media. Darn Twitter's post viewing limits, there were at least a million posts mentioning you. "Bad publicity is still publicity," Toto responded - closing his eyes in his inability to fight against rest.

"Hm, will you tell my father's publicist that?" you teased him and all color drained out of his face. He reached for his reading glasses on the bedside table, eyes slightly narrowing against the sharp light. "What is it about?" he groaned in an attempt to have a clear view of your phone. "-ever heard of dark mode?" he humored, slightly freezing when he sees the article's title.

"They make it seem like we're a divorced couple," he joked again, but it was clear that he was panicking. He hoped that nothing would come out of Christian. He prayed that his rival would learn to accept the change sooner than the media could get a wind of it - but nay, Toto was always a dreamer anyways. "Well, aren't you?" you giggled.

"I'll have this wiped off the face of earth," he mumbled to himself, reaching for his laptop hidden under the bed. "Gods I hate it when sports magazines push out this non-sports crap," you rolled your eyes - contemplating on whether or not you should message Christian. He was the only person that could fix this.

A sigh escapes your mouth. He wouldn't understand.

"How did you get rid of that article anyways?" George couldn't help but ask while taking the cooler out of the trunk. "I had to convince a close friend to buy the company," Toto sighed.

"I can't believe that we're living in a reality where Wolff-Horner babies are possible." Lewis chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. Gods, there were a million ways that this one could go wrong. "You're thinking way too far into the future," you chuckled - helping George carry the ice creams inside the house.

Christian half-expected his daughter to show up around Toto Wolff's arms, but he was more surprised to see the man show up alone. "Nice seeing you again," Geri smiled, welcoming the Austrian with arms open wide. "I wanted to bring Y/N but she feels under the weather." Toto reasoned for his daughter, but he already knew that it was some half-baked attempt to evade this dinner.

"Rainy seasons always make her sick." Geri sympathized. Christian shook his head in disbelief. No amount of clarity would ever make his wife believe that you were anything less of an angel. "I'm sorry for being late," the man apologized, sitting on the chair parallel them.

A waitress comes towards them with a menu, but Toto ignores the sheet of paper. "I'm not really here to have dinner. I wanted to inform you of something," he started with a tone that told Christian that he wasn't going to like where the conversation was going. "What is it?" he couldn't help but ask - taking a sip of his lemon water.

"She asked me to marry her." Toto began with a sad smile. "No, no fucking way." Christian shook his head. If this was Toto's way of inviting them to the wedding then the wedding wasn't fucking happening. "And I redirected her." he added and Geri let out a sigh of relief. You were too young for marriage.

"Because I knew that you didn't approve the both of us." he breathed, looking to the far horizon. Toto was a traditional man. He dreamt of a house in Beverly Hills or Bel Air - beside some hot shot producer - inside a house that seemed like a cleaning nightmare. He wanted a small family, a white picket fence with fun neighbors.

He'd be willing to let that go - all for you.

All for your family that didn't love him in return.

"Is this your way of trying to convince us? Y/N's had her turn of older billionaires in the past - they're all the same. I'm not letting her make the same mistakes again," he responded with courage.

Toto stood up - fiddling with his Patek Philippe watch.

"I want you to think about it, Christian. I really love your daughter."

@oceandeepthirst2 @h-c-u @perihelioneclipse @fallwinterr @ohkapten @crimeshowjunkie @ironcowboycopnickel @clusidino-27 @luckyladycreator2 @upsteadsstuff @omgsuperstarg @champomiel @wavesnotfeelings @soph1644

#toto wolff x reader #toto wolff

[beelzeballing]

actually i dont think ive posted my thoughts on ofmd s2 overall here yet have i?

ok here goes: i think it had incredibly high highs, and at some parts i genuinely enjoyed it more than i did the first season, episode 6 being peak imo. however, it had equally abysmal lows with some glaring writing-, tone- and pacing issues that all came to a head in the finale.

i once read someone say that, if you ever feel like a finale ruined the whole story, maybe you should take another look at the story. there were most likely cracks and problems all along, and the finale did nothing besides dashing the hope that these would perhaps be addressed later. very rarely do genuinely well written stories go completely off the rails in the finale and ruin the whole thing.

i think this is applicable here in some ways, SPECIFICALLY in regards to edward. good god edward was a MESS this season, and it's so sad because i loved the starting point! the kraken era was absolutely terrifying and iconic as FUCK but... they shouldn't have leaned so hard into the drama and trauma of it all. don't get me wrong, i loved that it did. it's one of my favorite parts of the season and i'm so glad we got it. but if they wanted this arc to work with the overarching plot as they wrote it, they would've had to lighten up the tone here CONSIDERABLY. had they played the kraken era for comedy then sure! edward's bad youtuber apology would've been funny. his fast redemption would've been less jarring. the lack of consequences less disturbing. but as it stands in the show, this arc is too dark to function with the later episodes.

i feel like they wanted to have their cake and eat it too here. they wanted the gritty drama of ed coming off the hinges entirely but also didn't want to deal with the aftermath of such a heavy arc in their silly pirate romcom. be that due to time constraints and budget cuts or because they were simply unwilling to, doesn't really matter in the end. the result is the same either way: a very tonally messy season with some accidentally troubling implications regarding abuse.

and mentioning troubling implications regarding abuse; izzy. my poor, poor izzy... his arc was absolutely glorious. i liked izzy the second he showed up in s1 and i was absolutely EATING this season up in that regard. and i think in this case, they genuinely did fuck it all up in the finale with that one stupid choice:

choosing to kill izzy was the DUMBEST thing they couldve done here.

ive talked about this over and over and over again. ive reblogged so many meta posts. and still i am left absolutely flabbergasted by how stupid of a decision this was. the fridging, playing at the fallen woman trope, killing the beating heart of the season and the character who delivers what is essentially a thesis statement, killing off the character whose arc is about coming to terms with his disability, having him die in edward's arms, comforting him and apologizing after an entire season of finding community and love outside of edward, the absolutely godawful pacing of it all, the extremely easy and obvious solution of just having IZZY become the new captain of the revenge to mirror s1 and hammer home how much he has developed since then in one go... i could go on. and i have. it was a stupid writing decision, completely fucked the tone and pacing of the finale and took away attention and time from things that really would've deserved a better wrap up (lucius and black pete deserved better)

now. the whole prince ricky & zheng plot line... yeah that shit sucked ass, sorry. they bit off more than they could chew here. i honestly think those are the arc words of this season:

✨️ bit off more than they could chew ✨️

right off the bat: i think he was good as a concept. bringing in a foil for stede who just doesn't Get It as stede does could've made for very good comedy and drama (and to be fair there is some of that). but that shit got away from them extremely quickly. nothing about how he's implemented past his first episode works, and i think this is very specifically because he's mostly played as the comic relief in his debut episode. making this completely bumbling fool, who gets his nose hacked off on his first job, the main villain of your entire season is... definitely a choice. idk. he didn't work for me at all.

ok wow mentioning shit getting away from the writers. this definitely got away from me. this was supposed to be a short lil post. well. i guess tl;dr i loved this season but jesus christ there was a lot wrong with it. if you want to hear more thoughts. ask box is open. be my guest. i have more to say so even if you dont ask i might add more to this at some point but im tired and have work tmrw.

#i was going to do shit today and now look at me. #0:18 at night #laying in bed #writing this shit #i havent even eaten. #christtttt #moogsin' #ofmd #izzy hands #our flag means death #ofmd meta #ofmd critical #ofmd s2 #ofmd spoilers #the izcourse #im not tagging any of the other characters cuz i shittalk all of them 😭 #listen i love edward hes my babygirl but this season did him DIRTY.